


The Only Math I Need is Me + You

by AlannaofRoses



Series: Breaking News: I Love You [2]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Boys In Love, Crutchie's Refuge Trauma, Crying, Davey goes back to school, F/F, Fluff, Found Family, Growing Up, Illnesses, Jack and Davey Co-Parent their 43 children, Jack's Refuge Trauma, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Race's Refuge Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannaofRoses/pseuds/AlannaofRoses
Summary: Davey Jacobs won Jack Kelly's heart in a whirlwind week. But with the adrenaline of the strike fading, the two boys begin to face the reality of their very different lives. With challenges coming at them from all sides, Davey and Jack must decide whether their love is worth the price.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: Breaking News: I Love You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908613
Comments: 79
Kudos: 82





	1. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> The direct sequel to Headline Heart. Davey and Jack face school, illness, injury, relationships, and the reality of growing up. 
> 
> I wasn't planning on starting this so soon after Headline Heart, but I apparently have no impulse control. I'm sure you aren't upset.

The day seemed to go by in a blur. Half the morning had been gone by the time the Newsies had left the square, flush with victory. Everyone and their mother had wanted to buy a pape from the famous Newsboys, the powerful display still fresh in their minds.

Jack had managed it all with his usual swagger, though Davey could read the lines of tension that still lingered in his frame. However fine Jack pretended to be, the last week had been a hellish nightmare for the most part. Davey resolved to keep an eye on him.

When the evening papes were all sold, Davey and Les accompanied Jack back to the lodging house where a party was already well started.

Someone had managed to find some alcohol, and several of the older boys cheered tipsily as Jack entered.

“Jack!”

“Newsies forever!”

“We won!”

Jack slapped a few shoulders, shook Spots hand, gave Race a firm hug. After a few moments, though, he leaned close to Davey. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He murmured. “Penthouse?”

Davey nodded, giving his wrist a gentle squeeze as Jack moved off. The Manhattan leader went straight for Crutchie, who was sitting in a corner, and the two slipped away.

Davey, who had already informed his parents he and Les would be staying at the Lodging House overnight to celebrate, let himself revel in the atmosphere of excitement. There were wounds that still needed dealt with, and not just the black eyes and swollen lips many of the boys still sported. The future was still a nebulous thing. But tonight, against all odds, they had won.

Albert passed him a drink, and Davey winced at the taste.

“Strong, ain’t it.” Race laughed at him.

“Nah.” Davey tried to take another sip and choked. “S’good.”

Spot shook his head in amusement, but he was grinning, his face softer than Davey had ever seen it.

“What’s Brooklyn doing here, anyway?” Davey asked, setting the drink aside.

“Not Brooklyn.” Spot shrugged. “Just me.”

“Any particular reason?”

Spot’s face darkened slightly, and he shifted closer to Race, the two boys pressed together knee to shoulder. “I needed to see this. To remind myself of what could have so easily gone the other way.”

Davey shook his head. “No one blames you, Spot. You were protecting your kids.”

Spot shrugged. “I was. So was Jack. And we’ll never know what could have been. But…” He glanced at Race, at the dark bruising ringing the other boy’s eye. “I can wish that things hadn’t gone so badly at first.”

“You came when it mattered.” Race said quietly.

“Davey!” Les called just then, waving Davey over to check out something he and some of the little were doing.

Davey spent the next hour wandering about the lodging house, Newsie after Newsie stopping him to exchange congratulations on the strike. By the time boys started drifting off on any available surface, Davey was practically glowing with warm contentment – and it wasn’t from the alcohol.

He adjusted Les and Smalls against the couch, tossing one of the faded blankets over them. Les looked angelic in the faint indoor lighting, his face smoothed out in sleep. Only the knot of the sling peeking out over his shoulder told the tale of the past few days.

Leaving the last of the party behind, Davey stepped out onto the fire escape and climbed the rickety ladder to Jack’s penthouse as quietly as he could.

Jack glanced up at his arrival, his hands pausing in their sketching. Crutchie was curled up beside him, his head tucked into Jack’s shoulder, fast asleep.

Davey sat on Jack’s other side, sighing softly as he felt his body relax against Jack’s warmth.

Jack resumed his sketching, his skilled hands tracing an outline of something Davey couldn’t quite make out.

“How is he?” Davey asked quietly, indicating Crutchie.

“He’s hurting.” Jack replied simply. “The Refuge leaves scars, Davey, and not just the physical ones.”

Davey knew that well, if only because Jack’s eyes were even now haunted by his own time in the Refuge. He reached out and smoothed the line between Jack’s brows, stroking his fingers lightly down Jack’s cheek. “How are you?”

“I’m…”

“Don’t say you’re fine.” Davey ordered gently. “I know you aren’t. And I know you want to be strong for Crutchie, and Race, and everyone else, Jack. But you don’t have to be strong for me, okay? I’m here. Whatever you need.”

He brushed Jack’s hand with his fingers, and Jack turned his palm to lace their hands together.

“I should be happy.” Jack said finally.

Davey rubbed his thumb against the back of Jack’s hand in slow, rhythmic circles. “Winning the war doesn’t negate the fact that a war took place, Jack. It’s okay if you need time to grieve.”

“Stay with me?” Jack asked quietly.

“Of course.” Davey said, squeezing his hand. “I meant what I said this morning. I’m in this one hundred percent. Whatever you do, Jack, I’m right here with you.”

They sat in silence for a long time, watching the moon. Eventually, Davey felt Jack’s head tip onto his shoulder heavily. He smiled sadly down at the sleeping boys. He knew he couldn’t erase the scars life had left on each of them, but for tonight, Davey was privileged enough to be their silent guardian against the horrors that haunted their dreams.

Morning found them bleary-eyed and drooping. Both Jack and Crutchie had startled awake from multiple nightmares, gasping and flailing in panic before registering where they were. Davey had done his best to soothe them, but they had taken longer and longer to go back to sleep, reluctant to close their eyes and face the darkness again.

Davey’s only comfort was that they weren’t facing it alone. By now, Crutchie was practically in Jack’s lap, the boys so tangled together Davey could hardly tell whose limbs were whose. Davey had wrapped himself around Jack as best he could in the small space, holding them both together.

The sky lightened slowly, as reluctant as Davey to start the day. Jack shifted slightly and then froze, his breath escaping in a pained hiss.

“Jack?” Davey and Crutchie asked at the same time.

Jack shook his head mutely, his hand going to his chest. “Forgot about my ribs.” He grunted.

“Shit.” So had Davey. He slid out from behind Jack carefully, trying not to jostle him. Crutchie pulled away too, looking from Jack to Davey with concern. “Let me see.”

Jack didn’t look happy, but he also didn’t fight as Davey pulled up his shirt to check on the wrappings Esther had placed before the rally. They had come a bit loose in the intervening time, no longer supporting the damaged bones.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Jack shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “They didn’t hurt much before now.”

Crutchie made a pained sound. “Jack.”

“It wasn’t a big deal…”

“You don’t have to punish yourself.”

Davey’s hands shook, but he forced himself to stay silent and continue his task.

“I wasn’t…” Jack protested weakly, but there was no conviction behind the words.

Davey’s eyes stung.

“Jack.” Crutchie swallowed. “Please. Tell me you weren’t using the pain to punish yourself.”

Jack put his face in his hands and didn’t answer.

“It wasn’t your fault, Jack.” Crutchie begged, his voice breaking. “You know that, right? It wasn’t your fault.”

Jack collapsed in on himself, his body hunching in a way that couldn’t be helping his ribs, but Davey couldn’t even think about that right now because Jack was falling apart. His whole body shook with the force of his silent sobs, shuddering through him like an earthquake.

Crutchie was crying too, tears tracking down his cheeks as he pressed himself into Jack’s side. “I’m here. I’m okay, Jack. I’m here.” He whispered over and over.

Davey pressed his own damp cheek to Jack’s head, tangling his hand in the dark curls and holding on tight. He knew Jack needed this release, but that didn’t make it any easier to witness. His heart ached at the depth of Jack’s pain.

It was a long time before Jack stilled. Davey bent down to brush a kiss against his forehead, taking in the deep bag under the eye that wasn’t already bruised, the utter exhaustion clear on Jack’s face. He made a silent decision.

“Here, Jackie.” He said quietly. “Lean on Crutchie for a minute.” He shifted Jack over to the younger boy, wriggling his way free from the pile.

Jack whined at his loss, but Davey steeled himself. “I’ll be right back, Jackie. Promise.”

He hurried down the ladder, ducking into the common room. Most of the Newsies were just starting to rise, their usual wake-up time fast approaching.

Davey found Race and Albert in the kitchen, leaning wearily against the old, scarred table.

“Heya Davey.” Albert mumbled, clearly hungover.

“Hey Albert, can I talk to Race a minute?”

Albert grunted assent and moved out of earshot.

Race scanned Davey’s face. “Rough night?”

“For both of them.” Davey nodded. “I don’t think either Jack or Crutchie is in any shape to go out selling today.”

Race nodded. “I suspected as much. I’ll take Les with me today. With the strike so fresh, today’s going to be a great day, regardless of the headline. You stay and take care of Jack and Crutchie, and the rest of us will cover you three.”

“I’m fine to sell.” Davey protested, but Race shook his head.

“Jack’s not gonna want you out of his sight right now. If you go out selling, he’s going to insist on joining you, and then nothing is going to stop Crutchie from coming too, and we don’t need either of them passing out on the route and freaking out the littles any more than they already are.”

Davey had to admit he had a point. “And you, Race? You’ve not had it easy either.”

Race shrugged one shoulder. “No, I ain’t. But right now, I think normal is the best thing for me. I’ll process when I’m ready, and I’m not ready yet.”

“Okay.” Davey said reluctantly. “Just… promise when you are, that you won’t go it alone.”

Race smiled softly. “You’re good for Jack, you know that?”

“I…”

“S’ok Davey. Nobody’s gonna judge ‘round here.” His cheeks went slightly pink. “Uh, me ’n Spot are sweethearts too, so’s you know.”

“Oh.” Davey blinked. “Oh!”

Race snorted. “Yeah, okay. Get back to your boyfriend before he freaks out.”

“Thanks, Race.” Davey said. “Seriously.”

Race chuckled and waved him off.

Davey hurried back to the roof to find Jack waiting for him anxiously, still tucked up against Crutchie. With those big, scared eyes under still-damp lashes, he looked frightfully young, and Davey felt his heart squeeze painfully.

“I’m here, Jack.” He said, kneeling.

Jack instantly reached for his hand, clutching it tightly.

“C’mon.” Davey motioned to both the boys. “None of us are going out today. Let’s lie down and try to sleep a bit more, yeah?”

They exhaustedly piled themselves onto the tangle of blankets that comprised Jack’s bed, three bodies a bit tight for the small space, but Davey knew the closeness was comforting for the others right now. He spooned up behind Jack, fitting against the smaller boy like a puzzle piece snapping into place. He felt something in his own chest calm as his arms wrapped tight around Jack.

Crutchie curled up on Jack’s other side like a kitten, his face pressed against Jack’s neck, his arms wrapped around Jack’s waist just below Davey’s own. Jack’s arms were around Crutchie, his head tucked under Davey’s chin.

Within moments, all three boys were fast asleep.

In Jack’s penthouse under the sky, even the hustle and bustle of New York City couldn’t wake them.


	2. Relearning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey and Jack begin to pick up the pieces of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have already noticed, chapters on this will be coming a lot slower than Headline Heart. Whatever magical writing spirit posessed me for those two weeks has gone, which is both good and bad. On the one hand, I loved writing an insane amount every day, on the other, I might actually sleep now.

It’s Race peering at them from the top of the ladder that finally gets the boys to acknowledge they’re awake.

“Hey.” Race says softly. “Sorry, I wouldn’t have disturbed you, but some of the littles are getting anxious, and…”

“S’ok, Racer.” Jack says sleepily. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

Race disappears again, and Jack stretches, Crutchie grunting as he’s dislodged.

Davey puts his hand on Jack’s hip, tipping the shorter boy slightly towards him. “You doing okay, Jack?”

Jack smiles. It’s tired, and Davey can still see the jagged shards of pain buried deep within, but its also real. “I’m okay, Davey.” He leans forward to press a kiss to Davey’s lips. “Thank you for staying.”

“Uh…” Davey mumbles coherently, glancing up at Crutchie.

Crutchie snorts. “Don’t let me get in the way, fellas. I’ll just be heading down, then.”

Davey drops his head and groans. “Does everyone know, then?”

Jack laughs. “Nah. I told Crutchie last night before you got up here. As for the rest of them, they won’t care when they find out. We gots several queer couples in the ranks.”

“Like Race and Spot?”

Jack’s brows shoot up. “Who told ya that?”

“Race did.” Davey answered. “This morning.”

Jack and Crutchie exchanged a look.

“Well.” Jack said slowly. “Race really likes you then, Davey. He an’ Spot are pretty private about it.”

“Oh. Should I not have said anything?”

“It’s fine, Crutchie an’ I already knew. But they try not to let it get around too much on account of Spot bein’ the Brooklyn leader and Race bein’ my successor.”

“Your successor?” Davey said, surprised.

Jack chuckled. “What? Ya think I’m gonna be a Newsie forever? I got a year before I age outta the lodging house, and sellin’ gets real hard soon as you aren’t a kid anymore. When I’m gone, Race and Albert’ll take over Manhattan.”

“Not Specs?”

Crutchie answered this time. “Specs is seventeen, same as Jack.”

Jack nodded. “He never wanted ta be the leader. Truth be told, when I gots it I didn’t want it neither. The previous Manhattan leader died when I was fifteen, and I got promoted all sudden-like.”

Crutchie nodded. “Specs helps out where he’s needed, an’ he’s real good at patching us up. But Jack was always going to be the one we looked to. He’s been sellin’ longer’n most of us has been on the streets.”

“When did you start?” Davey asked Jack, curious.

Jack shrugged. “I was eight when I sold my first pape.”

“Eight?” Davey gasped. That was younger than Les. “That’s…”

Crutchie broke in. “We should head down!” He started to move for the ladder, his bum leg dragging awkwardly as he tried to maneuver the platform. “I’m awful hungry, are you Davey?”

Davey caught the warning glance Crutchie threw his way and shut his mouth. Clearly he’d been about to step on another part of the minefield that was Jack’s past. “Yeah, I could eat.”

Jack was already on his feet, helping Crutchie navigate the ladder. “How long can youse stay, Davey?” He asked.

“Till after evening pape, at least.” Davey said. “Ma and pop won’t expect us home till then anyway.”

Jack nodded, following Crutchie down the ladder and through the window into the Newsie’s bunkroom. It was empty, being the middle of the day. It was also surprisingly tidy for the amount of young boys who lived in the space.

Crutchie caught Davey’s look. “Kloppman makes upkeep part of the deal.” He explained. “Long as we keep the place nice, he keeps our rent very reasonable. Plus, we don’t exactly have a lot of stuff to leave lying around anyway.”

That was true. Save a few knick-knacks on the dressers spaced between the beds, there was a distinct lack of the personal items Davey usually associated with a home. The gap between himself and the life of a Newsie struck him again.

“Youse comin’ or what?” Jack asked, already at the door.

“Yeah!” Davey called back. “Coming.”

The mood downstairs was a more subdued version of yesterday’s celebratory air. A few of the older Newsies were still nursing mild hangovers, and Davey was glad he’d taken only a few sips of his own drink. The littles, including Les, were congregated near Specs, who seemed to be telling them a story.

What the story was, Davey never got a chance to find out. As soon as Jack hit the first floor, the younger Newsies left all other pursuits to swarm him eagerly.

“Hey!” Jack laughed, picking up Smalls and swinging her around.

“Me!” “Me too!” “Jack, do me!” The others called.

Davey and Crutchie skirted the chaos carefully, making their way to Race and Albert. The two boys – Jack’s successors – were watching the littles interact with their leader with fond smiles.

Davey tried not to think about how much Jack’s easy way with the younger kids made Davey want to kiss him.

“How ya doin’, Race?” Crutchie asked as they approached.

Race shrugged. “I’m okay, Crutchie. You?”

“Getting there.” Crutchie nodded.

Davey rolled his eyes.

Les came bounding up, fresh from his turn in Jack’s arms. “Davey, I sold forty-five papes this morning!” He squealed. “That’s a new record!”

“Wow.” Davey blinked. “Les, that’s amazing!”

“Told ya selling would be good today.” Race said smugly. “Everyone wants to buy a pape from the famous Newsboys.”

“Yeah, don’t get a big head.” Albert pointed out. “They’ll forget about us soon enough, and then it’s back to bad headlines and lousy weather.”

“Who asked you?” Specs groaned. “Enjoy it while we got it.”

Kloppman poked his head into the main room. “Boys! You wanna get a move on if you’re gonna catch the evening pape!”

Race cupped his hands around his mouth. “Newsies of Manhattan! Let’s go!”

Davey judiciously stepped aside as a herd of wild Newsboys trampled past him and out the door, as wild and free as the day he’d first set foot into Newsie Square. But this time, Jack brought up the rear, his sunset eyes watching Davey. “Carrying the banner?”

Davey smiled, checking both ways before pressing a secret kiss to Jack’s lips. “Carrying the banner.”

Kings of New York or not, selling papes that evening was the easiest thing Davey had ever done. It barely even mattered that he was hopelessly out of practice after the strike, which had comprised most of Davey’s time as a Newsie. Still, the old tricks came back quick enough. It was a lot easier to sell papes than it had been to stand up to Pulitzer.

Davey, Les, Jack, and Crutchie orbited around each other, never close enough to damage the other’s sales, but never out of reach. Davey caught the frequent glances Jack and Crutchie exchanged, checking in. Snyder may have been locked up, but the threat he posed hadn’t completely lifted from those who had suffered under his brutal reign.

Davey found himself wishing he’d decked the man when he’d had the chance.

They sold out of papes ridiculously early. The sun was just kissing the tops of the tallest buildings. As their little quartet gathered a few blocks from the Jacob’s residence, Davey felt the first traces of panic building.

Somehow, until now, he’d managed to ignore the fact that his parents would expect him home tonight. That there wouldn’t be another night spent in peace in Jack’s penthouse, Jack’s heartbeat strong and reassuring under his palm.

“Hey, Les.” Crutchie said. “Come look at this!”

Les moved off to see whatever Crutchie was pointing at.

Jack stepped close to Davey, taking his hand and squeezing it tight, hidden by his broad shoulders. “You ok, Davey?”

Davey laughed weakly, tipping his forehead to rest against Jack’s. “I guess I’m not as okay as I thought.”

“What can I do?”

Davey shook his head. “You’re doing it, Jack. It’s not… I’m just being silly.”

“Hey. It’s not silly if it’s hurting you. What is it?”

Davey swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to go.”

Jack’s eyes slipped closed, his face pained. “Trust me, Davey. I don’t wanna go either. Not having you within reach…”

Davey dragged Jack further into the alley, until they were hidden enough that he felt safe throwing his arms around Jack and holding him close. Jack held him back just as tightly, both of them ignoring their ragged breathing as they fought to keep control.

Tomorrow, Davey reminded himself desperately. He’d see Jack tomorrow.

Tomorrow seemed so far away.

It was that thought that broke him, and his next breath was a sob. He clung to Jack, gripping him like a lifeline as he drowned.

Jack’s hand was in his hair, grounding him. Jack’s voice was a broken thing, calling him, “Davey. Davey. Davey,” each breath a prayer.

He hasn’t cried, really cried, in front of anyone who wasn’t his family in years, but he doesn’t feel ashamed of this. As awful as it is, it is somehow wonderful too, falling and trusting that Jack will catch him. Its freeing, pouring out all the rage and grief and terror of the past week. When he comes back to himself, sobs turning to soft gasps turning to slow breaths, he feels exhausted but also light as air.

Jack kisses his neck, his shoulder, his cheek. “Are you okay?”

Davey turns his head just enough to catch the next kiss against his lips, smiling against Jack’s mouth. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry.” Jack said quietly.

Davey pulled back in surprise. “For what?”

Jack shuffled his feet, unable to meet Davey’s eyes. “M’sorry I didn’t realize how much you were hurting too. I was so wrapped up ‘n me ‘n Crutchie…”

“Hey.” Davey cut him off, gripping Jack’s shoulders to hold him still. “Jack, what you and Crutchie went through was awful. Okay? There is nothing wrong with needing some time to deal with that. You have to take care of yourself first, before you can take care of Crutchie or Race or me or anyone. I’m never going to blame you for hurting, Jack. You did nothing wrong. And when I did need you, you were right where you needed to be.”

Jack nodded, but Davey could tell he still didn’t quite believe the words. Davey sighed and kissed him again, closing his eyes against the feel of Jack’s lips on his own. He tucked the memory away for later, when Jack was no longer in his reach.

“Jack?” Crutchie called uncertainly from the entrance to the alley. “Hey, it’s starting to get late guys…”

“Coming Crutchie.” Jack responded. He looked at Davey.

Davey nodded bravely. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jack.”

“Tomorrow.” Jack whispered the promise back.

They walked the last block to the tenement, Jack and Davey shoulder to shoulder, flanked by Les and Crutchie offering silent support.

Les waved when they reached the building, already starting up the stairs. Davey turned back for once last look. Jack gave him a half-smile, nodding, and then he and Crutchie turned and left, quickly swallowed by the growing shadows.

Davey squared his shoulders and headed up to face his family.


	3. Renewal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A restless night and a rainy day leave Davey in poor spirits, but the Newsies continue to surprise him.

Esther and Mayer rushed the door as soon as it opened, and Davey found himself held tightly against his father’s chest by Mayer’s one good arm. Esther had Les wrapped around one side and tucked her other arm over Davey’s shoulders. A moment later, Sarah joined them silently, leaning her head against Davey’s, her slim arms around his waist. The Jacobs family held each other tight for a long moment.

Esther was the first to pull back, framing Les’ face with her hands. “Are you boys all right? No further injuries?”

“No, mama.” Davey said, detangling himself from his father and sister. “We outnumbered them this time. They couldn’t have gotten rid of us if they’d wanted to!”

“I told them the highlights.” Sarah grinned. “But we want to hear it from the co-leader of the strike himself! What happened after the rally?”

“Was that really only two nights ago?” Davey said faintly. “Wow. So much has happened since then.”

Esther squeezed his arm. “And you haven’t really been home since. You’ve got a lot to fill us in on.”

“But first,” Mayer said, putting an arm around Esther and regarding his sons gravely. “we are so proud of both of you. Especially you, David. The fact that you won is an incredible bonus, but you risked a lot to help your friends and stand up for what was right, and that means everything.”

“Thanks Dad.”

Esther sniffed. “Oh! The soup!” She hurried over to the stove, stirring a large pot. “David, Les, get freshened up so we can eat.”

Esther’s soup was deliciously hot, if a little lean. With only Esther and Sarah making any money for the last three days, the Jacobs’ finances had struggled. Both Mayer and Esther gasped when Les and Davey revealed the earnings from their day. Even with Davey only working the evening pape, their combined money was more than they had ever brought home before.

“Don’t get too used to it.” Davey warned. “I’d say we can milk the strike press for about a week before people move on. Then it’s back to usual.”

“Speaking of the strike,” Mayer said, “what happened after the rally? You said you were going to print a paper?”

“Yeah! Well, the paper was Kath’s idea. We needed a way to make sure Pulitzer had no way out.” Over the next hour, Davey told the story of the strike, with frequent interjections by Les. He left out a few things, particularly a certain stretch of time in Jack’s penthouse. He glossed over Jack’s betrayal, highlighting how Pulitzer had tried to manipulate Jack while neglecting the part about the threat to Davey himself. “So,” he finished at last, “he and Jack talked, and Pulitzer agreed to reduce the price increase by half, as well as pay us for any papers we can’t sell by the end of the day.”

“That’s incredible, David.” Mayer said, leaning back. “I mean it. What you boys did, uniting the kids of the city like that?” He shook his head in awe.

Davey grinned. “Now we just need to get you a union, dad. Then you don’t have to worry about being out of work ever again.”

Mayer chuckled. “Let’s stick to one union leader in the family, okay? I’m not sure we can deal with anymore stress like the past week.”

Davey ducked his head. “I’m sorry if we worried you.”

Esther bent to cup his cheek. “Oh love. You’re safe now, and that’s all that matters.”

“Speaking of safe, how is Jack?” Sarah asked. “He was pretty beat up before the rally.”

“He’s okay.” Davey hedged. “He was right back out there selling with us today.”

“Brave boy.” Esther said quietly.

Les yawned just then, breaking the moment. They all laughed and began to tidy up in preparation for the night.

Davey’s bed was soft and inviting after the thin pallet on the Penthouse. Still, he tossed and turned for hours. Les, a heavy sleeper as usual, snored quietly on. It was his warm presence that eventually allowed Davey to drift off into an uneasy sleep.

He woke the next morning exhausted and rather grumpy, which was of course why it was raining. Davey glanced out the window and groaned heavily. He’d known they’d been lucky so far with the weather so fair. He was honestly surprised it hadn’t rained sooner, but that didn’t make it anymore bearable. Sarah gave him a commiserating smile as he tugged on his shoes, resigning himself to a long day of wet socks.

Les didn’t seem too terribly bothered by the rain on their walk to the square, stepping in puddles and catching raindrops on his tongue like the kid he was. Davey didn’t expect his brother’s good mood to last, but he wasn’t going to question it for now. He’d take what he could get today.

The sight of Jack lifted his spirits considerably. Davey actually stopped to take in the sight. It reminded him strikingly of his very first time stepping foot here. Jack, the unconscious center of the crowd, the sun around which all the Newsies orbited. Crutchie and Race, Jack’s inner circle never far from his side. Even the Delancey brother’s were in their usual spots, glowering at Jack from behind the stacks of papes.

“Davey!” Specs called happily.

Jack looked up, and the spell was broken. He grinned at Davey, and unlike his first time here, Davey found himself enthusiastically welcomed into the crowd of Newsies. He was shuffled along, a handshake here, a backslap there, and almost without him realizing it he was standing next to Jack.

Jack jerked his head, sending raindrops scattering from the brim of his cap. “Nice day, isn’t it, Davey!”

“Hmmm.”

Crutchie laughed. “Watch out, Jack! I think someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

Davey shot a look at Crutchie that he meant to be annoyed, but he wasn’t sure whether he succeeded. It was so good to hear Crutchie laughing and joking. Then a thought occurred to him. “Uh, you guys didn’t sleep in the Penthouse last night, did you?”

Crutchie snorted. “Thankfully no. That would have been a rude awakening. We slept in the bunkhouse with the fellas. The Penthouse is great for getting out of the summer heat or escaping the constant snoring, but it has its downsides when its wet. Or cold, as it soon will be.”

Davey hadn’t even thought about the fast approaching winter. Fall had just started to touch the landscape, the air at night cooling quickly once the sun faded. He thought about selling in a downpour like this when it wasn’t a pleasant 84 degrees and shivered.

“Papes for the Newsies!” Wiesel called.

Instead of moving to the head of the line as usual, Jack tugged Davey and Les towards the middle.

“Okay fellas. So’s selling in the rain’s a bit different than in the sunshine. Gotta keep the papes dry, see, so’s they stay in your bag until you pass one over. Which means, we gotta shift our tactics a bit to make the papes attractive, see?” Jack explained how to tuck the canvas bag properly so water wouldn’t soak the papes, how to make sure the bag was under the lip of the passersby’s umbrella before passing a pape, and how to hawk a headline the customer couldn’t see for themselves. He also encouraged Davey to buy a bit lighter than usual. “No one who ain’t gotta be is out in this. So there ain’t gonna be no extra crowds to pass the leftovers off on.”

Davey listened carefully, and by the time he and Les made it to the front of the line, they were able to copy Jack’s quick transfer of the papers with ease. Davey was pleased to see he’d managed to get not a single drop of water on his papes. Les wasn’t quite so lucky, his small hands fumbling the pass just slightly, but Jack grinned all the same.

“Natural Newsies, wha’ did I tell ya?”

Les grinned back at him, scrunching up his nose as water droplets snuck under his hat.

“C’mon then, let’s go.” Jack said, leading them out. “It’s gonna be a slow day today, so let’s get a move on.”

They left Crutchie not far from the distribution center, tucked under one of the larger awnings in the area and accompanied by Smalls. With his crutch taking the use of one of his hands, Crutchie couldn’t manage the quick transfer needed to keep the papes dry on the streets, so he’d be selling from a stationary post today where he would be protected from the worst of the wet.

Instead, Race had decided to join them, foregoing his usual trek to the Manhattan/Brooklyn dividing line with the weather so bad. By the time they were ten minutes in, Davey was incredibly grateful for the younger boy’s presence.

Whatever good spirits had possessed Les on the walk to the square had quickly deserted him in the face of the soggy reality. Les had sold two papes with relative ease, and then Davey had seen him approaching with that particular look that meant Les was about to start whining about something Davey couldn’t fix or control. He tried to steel himself, wondering how he was going to make a full day with a grumpy Les up to Jack and Race, when Race stepped smoothly between the brothers.

“Hey Les.” Race said casually. “You ever played sidewalk cracks?”

“No,” Les said, intrigued despite himself. “what’s that?”

“Goes like this.” Race planted his foot firmly across a crack in the pavement. “Step on a crack, break the Spider’s back.”

“Break Snyder’s back?” Les grinned. “Cool!” He hurried a few steps away, stomping on the first crack he found. “Got one!”

He and Race chased each other around, selling their papes in between triumphant stomping, Les’ bad mood entirely evaporated.

“How’d he do that?” Davey asked Jack.

“Racer’s always been good with the littles.” Jack said, a soft note to his voice. “He made up that game not long after we got out of the Refuge, you know. Think it helped him, to imagine that he wasn’t powerless to fight back anymore.”

Davey looked over at Jack in surprise. Jack almost never brought up his own time in the Refuge, and even now he was angled away from Davey, his shoulders tensed like he was waiting for a blow.

“That’s sweet of him to share it with Les, then.” Davey said easily, glossing past the subject.

Jack relaxed. “C’mon. We better catch up to them or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Davey matched his grin, shaking his head playfully at the shorter boy so a spray of water flew off his cap and into Jack’s face before taking off after the younger boys.

Jack yelped, pawing at the water blinding him before letting out a bark of laughter and giving chase.

Davey decided he could get used to rainy days.


	4. Trial Basis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has an idea. Kath is uncertain. Davey is very amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, more Kath!
> 
> Ok, so in this chapter I introduce some Girlsies. I know the Broadway Movie version is an all-boy-band, but I'm highly in favor of equal rep so I changed it. I tried to choose Newsies that are often played by girls anyways. (Sorry Joshua Burrage fans.)

The next morning, Davey and Les were nearly to the square when someone called his name.

“Davey! Davey, wait!”

“Kath! Hey!”

“Hi!” Kath grinned at him, her face flushed from the crisp air.

The rains of yesterday had washed away the summer heat, leaving the trees edged in gold all over the city. It was a picture perfect morning.

“What are you doing here?” Davey asked Kath. “Shouldn’t you be working on some important news stories?”

“I am working.” Kath said. “I’ve come to get a first hand account of what it’s like to be a Newsie in New York. It’s part of my follow up series on the strike.”

“I see.” Davey nodded. “So you’ve come to talk to Jack and the others?”

“And you too, silly.”

“Me? I’ve been a Newsie for less than two weeks. And over half that time, we were on strike. I’m not exactly experienced here.”

“Well sure. But that just gives you a whole different perspective on it.” Kath said excitedly. “You’re experiencing it all for the first time!”

“You want a first hand account of bein’ a Newsie?”

Both Kath and Davey jumped at Jack’s voice, which came from startlingly close behind them. They turned to see the Manhattan leader himself listening in on their conversation, Les wrapped around him in a bear hug.

“Well, yeah.” Kath said, putting a hand on her chest in fright. “Jack, everyone wants to know more about you now.”

“Ok.” Jack said.

Davey narrowed his eyes. There was a particular spark in Jack’s gaze that he’d seen before. Right before Jack had started a strike and turned the whole of New York upside down.

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?” Kath asked Jack bravely.

Jack grinned. “You always say to write what you know, yeah?”

“…yeah…”

“So, you wanna story about what it’s like to be a Newsie? Then come be a Newsie.”

Kath’s mouth dropped open. She looked at Davey in shock, but he shook his head, as baffled as she was. “What?”

“I’m sorry. Was the suggestion to difficult?” Jack’s mouth was twitching. “I’ll rephrase. Come sell papes with us today, Kath, and then I’ll answer any questions you got.”

“I can’t sell papes!”

“Why not? Davey here did it.”

“Hey!” Davey grumbled.

Les was laughing, hiding his face against Jack’s leg.

“I’m a girl!”

“So? Lotsa girl Newsies on the streets. Smalls, JoJo, Buttons… and that’s just Manhattan.”

“I don’t look like a Newsie. No one is going to buy a paper from me.”

Jack cocked his head, eyeing Kath’s fancy clothes. “You’re ‘bout the same size as JoJo. We gots a few things’ll fit ya. Tuck your hair up, rub a little dirt into your skin, no one’ll know.”

“Uh…oh…I…” Kath looked at Davey uncertainly.

He smiled at her encouragingly. As outlandish as Jack’s suggestion had seemed at first, Davey was starting to think having Kath play Newsie for a day could be really fun.

Kath blew out a breath, steeling herself. “Ok, Jack. Let’s do it.”

“Racetrack!” Jack bellowed.

A few moments later, the lanky blond came trotting up. “Yeah, Jack?”

Jack passed over some coins, gesturing for Davey to do the same. “You take Les, an’ you an’ Crutchie buy me ‘n Davey’s papes. Wait for us at the flower shop on the corner. We got something needs doing before the morning edition.”

Race glanced between the four of them, clearly sensing one of Jack’s schemes. It was a testament to his trust in Jack that the younger boy didn’t ask any questions, just shrugged and gestured to Les. “C’mon kid. Gotta get a good place in line.”

Les scurried away after him.

Jack turned away from the square. “Hurry up, you two. We gotta get Kath here presentable before we lose too much sellin’ time.”

Jack tugged Kath along, Davey following amusedly behind them. Kloppman looked up in surprise when they burst through the door, his eyes widening when he saw Kath.

“Jack…”

“Just gotta do somethin’ real quick Klopp. We’ll be back out in a second!” Jack assured him, his voice fading as he disappeared up the stairs with Kath in tow.

Davey exchanged a shrug with Kloppman and hurried after them.

Kath was standing in the center of the bunkroom, looking uncertain. Jack had gone over to where a threadbare curtain sectioned off a couple of the bunks and was digging through a dresser. He quickly found whatever he was looking for, moving on to continue his quest.

“Is this where they sleep?” Kath asked Davey quietly as he approached.

“When they can afford it.” Davey nodded. “Which is most of the time, at least if you’re part of the crew. Jack and the others take care of their own.”

“The Penthouse?” Kath said in realization.

Davey nodded. “Saves money. Plus, it’s quieter and cooler up there.”

“Oh, Davey.”

“All right, that’s everything!” Jack interrupted them. Davey knew he’d heard every word, even if he seemed content to let Kath think he hadn’t. “Kath, take your clothes off.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, for… go behind the curtain, Kitty. I ain’t trying to get a peek.”

Kath scowled and snatched the clothes Jack held out, stalking behind the curtain and pulling it taut with a huff.

Jack rolled his eyes at Davey. “Girls.”

“I heard that!”

“Youse were meant to.”

There was much grumbling behind the curtain, but eventually Kath emerged. Davey’s mouth dropped open. Kath looked like an entirely different person. The shirt was just a bit too loose, but the vest tucked it nicely against her frame. The pants were too small, the cuffs a good inch above her ankles. With her flaming red hair spilling out of its careful style, she looked ready for the streets.

“Good. Just a few more touches.” Jack said. He stepped up to Kath and spun her around, grabbing a fistful of her hair.

“What are you doing!” Kath screeched.

“Well, are you gonna braid it, then?”

“I… what?”

Jack snorted. “You ain’t goin’ out with your hair all a riot. You gotta tuck it up under the cap. Or cut it, but I don’t think your father would like that much.”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. But, Jack Kelly, are you telling me you know how to braid hair?”

Jack opened his mouth to make what Davey was sure was a sarcastic snap, but seemed to reconsider. “I told ya. We gots girls in the ranks. Who do ya think does their hair? Smalls has hair down to her waist, and Buttons’ is pretty long too. JoJo snipped most of it off last year, but before that she had a nice mop.” He finished the braid off with a bit of string.

Kath touched her hair, her words for once failing her.

“C’mon.” Jack said, changing the subject. “Only two more things to do.”

They tramped downstairs again, Kloppman eyeing them amusedly as they hurried past. They stopped outside near the water pump, Jack mixing a few drops of water with some dirt. Kath grimaced unhappily but let Jack rub the mud across her cheeks and forehead, swiping at it until there was a fine layer of grime like all the other Newsies sported.

“Well,” Kath said resignedly. “how do I look?”

“Great.” Davey said honestly.

“Last thing.” Jack said, pulling a Newsboy cap from his pocket. With a skillful twist, he tucked Kath’s braid atop her head and tugged the Newsie cap over it. “Now, you’re perfect.”

Kath blushed. “I feel so… exposed.”

“Trust me.” Jack assured her. “No one on the street’s gonna give you a second glance like this. We ain’t had no trouble with any of our girls. Just speak low as you can and try to walk with a bit of swagger, you’ll be fine.”

“Swagger?”

“Yeah, like…” Jack demonstrated.

Kath gave a nervous laugh, bit her lip, and tried to imitate him.

Davey turned away to hide his smile.

Jack didn’t bother. “We’ll work on it, Kitty. Let’s go.”

By the time they finally reached the square, it was largely deserted, the Newsies already scattered. Race, Crutchie, and Les were loitering at the flower shop, Les giving a passing lady his poor orphan act.

Race looked up as they approached. “Jack! Finally. I gots to get to Brooklyn before… Oh. My. Gawd.”

Crutchie and Les followed his gaze.

Crutchie’s eyes went comically wide. “Is that… Katherine?”

Kath smiled nervously. “Hey boys.”

“You’re all dirty!” Les gaped.

“Les.” Davey sighed.

“Hey Les.” Jack broke in neatly, taking his share of the papes from Race. “Do ya remember when ya taught Davey here how to sell papes?”

“Yeah.”

“Think you could do the same for Kitty here?”

“Sure!”

Crutchie passed over a handful. “Here you go, kid.”

“Thanks!” Les snatched the papes with one hand and Kath’s arm with the other, tugging her towards the street. “So, first thing you gotta do is…”

Race shook his head at Jack, grinning. “Only you, boss.”

“Yeah, get outta here.” Jack chuckled, swatting Race with a pape as the younger boy took off towards Brooklyn.

Crutchie watched Les and Kath admiringly. “How did you convince her to do this, Jack?”

Jack slung an arm over his shoulder. “Negotiation, Crutchie. Negotiation.”

Selling with Kath was the most fun Davey had had as a Newsie yet. The reporter quickly got over any awkwardness, and her naturally pushy nature made her a quick study at moving papes. Even Jack seemed impressed.

Still, by the time they sold out of the evening edition, Kath was clearly dragging, unused to hours on her feet.

“Hey.” Davey said to their group. “Let’s go back to my place. It’s closer than Lodging House, and ma won’t mind if we sit for a bit.”

“Sure thing, Davey.” Jack agreed.

Kath nodded gratefully, wincing as she stepped on what were probably blisters.

Jack sighed. “Come ‘ere, Kitty-Kath.” With an easy motion, he picked Kath up piggy-back.

She blinked, startled, but then sighed in relief, slumping against him. “Thanks Jack.”

“Me too!” Les begged Davey, holding out his arms.

Davey rolled his eyes but complied, scooping up his brother. With Crutchie tapping alongside, they made their way to the Jacobs’ apartment.


	5. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kath's day as a Newsie ends, and the reporter gets her interview. Jack reveals a bit about his past, and Davey wonders if their differences are too great to overcome.

Davey, Jack, Les, Kath, and Crutchie all tumbled through the Jacobs’ door. Tired, dirty, and starving, they were a sight to behold.

“Jack!” Esther smiled. “What a nice surprise. Are you and your friends joining us for dinner?”

“Oh, no, Mrs. Jacobs.” Jack said. “We couldn’t impose three extra mouths on you.”

“Nonsense.” Esther waved away his refusal, kissing his cheek. “What with the way papers have been selling lately, Davey’s been bringing home enough to keep us well fed. Who are your friends?”

“Well, this is Crutchie…”

“Hello, Mrs. Jacobs.”

“…and I think you’ve already met Kath here.”

A thump from the hall caught their attention, and Davey turned to see Sarah turning bright red, her mending basket overturned on the floor.

“Oh! Here, let me help you with that.” Kath said quickly, kneeling to pick up the bits of lacework. Her Newsie cap, already precariously perched, gave up at the sudden motion and slipped off, letting Kath’s hair tumble free down her back.

Sarah choked.

Davey looked at Jack only to find the other boy already smirking at him. He felt his own cheeks heating. He hoped he hadn’t looked quite that ridiculous that first day in the square.

Thankfully, Esther didn’t seem to notice that her eldest was entirely tongue-tied as she hurried them all off to wash up for supper. Even with three extra mouths, there was plenty of food for everyone to have their fill.

It was interesting, watching the difference between Crutchie and Kath as they ate. Jack had spent enough time around the Jacobs to know his food was in no danger, so he’d relaxed his guard enough to talk between bites. Crutchie ate like Jack had when Davey had first known him, like the food would disappear if he stopped watching it. Kath, on the other hand, was completely relaxed, hardly paying attention to her plate unless she was taking occasional dainty bites. Davey strongly suspected she’d never gone hungry before.

It didn’t take long before Kath was yawning over her plate, the day taking its toll. Her yawn set Les off, and his started a chain reaction to the rest of them.

Jack laughed. “All right, then. Guess I’d better get our Kitty home. Kath, you can drop by the square tomorrow and I’ll answer all your questions, like we agreed.”

“Okay.” Kath yawned again. “Oh hey, can I bring a friend along sometime?”

“Another reporter?”

Kath nodded. “His name is Bryan Denton. He’s offered to mentor me now that I’m trying to get into the hard news scene.”

Jack shrugged. “Sure. Long as he knows the rules. No talking to any Manhattan Newsies without me or Davey present. Same goes for the other boroughs and leaders.”

“I’ll remind him. He can’t come tomorrow, but I hope you can meet him soon.”

“I’m sure he’s great.”

Jack helped her out of her chair, Kath swaying lightly as she gained her feet.

“Night, Davey. Night, Les. Night, Sarah.” Jack said. “Thanks again, Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs.”

“Night Jack!” Les waved.

“Don’t be a stranger.” Esther said gently. “Any of you.” She added, including Crutchie and Kath.

“Night, Kath.” Sarah murmured.

The two Newsies left with Kath in tow, their absence leaving the tenement rather lacking all of a sudden.

Sarah stood up suddenly. “I should, um…”

“Why don’t you all go off to bed.” Mayer said with a kind smile. “It’s been a long day.”

Sarah kissed his cheek and fled to the bedroom. Les and Davey carried their dishes to the sink and followed more slowly. Les quickly curled up on the bed he and Davey shared, falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Davey sat down next to Sarah. She peeked at him through her fingers, her head buried in her hands.

“So.” Davey smirked at her. “Kath, huh?”

Sarah moaned, curling into herself. “Davey, I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re aware Kath spends a lot of her time lately hanging out with Jack, right?”

“It’s not nice to call your boyfriend dumb.”

“Eh, not dumb. Just clueless.”

“I couldn’t even say two words to her!” Sarah wailed.

Davey swallowed his chuckles and rubbed Sarah’s back comfortingly. “I’m sure it’s fine, Sarah. She was exhausted anyway. You’ll get another chance.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now go to sleep.”

“Night, Davey.”

“Night, Sarah.”

The next morning, Davey was eager to get to the square. With Kath itching to interview Jack and the others, it was sure to be an interesting morning. Davey was struck once again by how little he actually knew about the Newsies individually.

Even Jack.

Especially Jack.

It occurred to Davey that he probably ought to sit the other boy down and figure out what exactly they were trying to do. After their dramatic get together, followed by a night in the Penthouse which hadn’t exactly been romantic, they had barely spoken about their relationship.

Sure, Jack had kissed him, several times. And they had said the L-word after the rally. But other than that, well. Jack was incredibly affectionate with basically everyone he met. He hadn’t really been treating Davey much differently than he had during the strike.

Davey found himself wondering if he’d made the whole thing up. Maybe it had been just the adrenaline of the strike, the camaraderie of the fight that had drawn them together. What was left for them now?

It was those pleasant thoughts that carried Davey to the square, his feet dragging more and more as they drew closer. He realized, whatever Jack might think of their relationship, Davey was already head over heels. If Jack didn’t feel the same way, well. That was going to hurt. A lot.

“C’mon, Davey!” Les whined. “Hurry up!”

They were a bit early, on purpose. Only a few boys were milling around, most catching a few extra minutes of sleep. Jack, Crutchie, and Race were already in their usual spots, perched by the wagons. Jack was laughing at something Crutchie was saying, his head tipped back. The morning sun gilded the tips of his hair as it poked out of his Newsie cap, brushing the lines of his face in gold.

“Morning boys!”

Davey snapped his mouth shut, turning to smile at Katherine.

“Hey, Kath.”

She waved him on, marching over to where Jack was holding court. He moved his foot with an amused look, and Kath sat primly on the vacated stack of papes. “All right. Who wants to go first?”

“I’ll start.” Race said, pulling the cigar from his mouth and flipping it end over end between his fingers. “Whatcha wanna know?”

“How old were you when you started selling papers?”

“Papes.” Race corrected. “An’ I was eleven.”

“Okay.” Kath scribbled in her notebook. “And what got you started?”

Race shrugged. “Ma was dead, and Pa got hisself arrested. Had nowhere else to go, till Jack here offered me a place in the ‘Hattan Newsies.”

Kath winced. “Sorry. I… uh… what’s the best thing about being a Newsie?”

“Well, you’re free.” Race said. “Nobody to answer to, no rules really. Sell your papes, hopefully make enough to eat an’ sleep in a bed, do it all again tomorrow.”

“And if you don’t make enough?”

“Well, that’s why it’s important to join up with your borough. We Manhattan Newsies take care of each other. One of us don’t make enough, we can usually cover ‘em until they starts earning again.”

Kath wrote feverishly. “Ok. Crutchie? How old were you?”

“I was twelve.” Crutchie answered easily. “Joined up at the same time as Race, actually. Bout the same reason to. Parents weren’t around, ended up on the streets, Jack found me, gave me a place to stay. And the best thing about bein’ a Newsie is that we’s all a family.” He looked up at Jack. “I know they’s always gots my back.”

Jack squeezed his shoulder.

Kath nodded, her pencil flying. “Alright. Jack? What’s your story.”

“I was eight.” Jack said.

Kath’s pencil paused. Davey watched her swallow hard, but she bravely rallied. “And why did you join the Newsies?”

Jack wiped a hand across his mouth, leaning back. Crutchie and Race instinctively leaned in closer, as if in silent support. “Well, my mudder died, and then pops took up the drink. Wasn’t much left for me after that.”

The words were clipped and short, but Davey could read between the lines. He’d thought all of Jack’s scars were from the Refuge, but he was seriously reconsidering that theory now.

Kath looked like she might cry. “I… I think that’s enough for today. Thank you, boys.”

Crutchie gave her a reassuring smile, and then she hurried away in a swirl of skirts.

Jack was still brooding, his elbows on his bent knees and his eyes a million miles away.

“Hey Jack.” Crutchie said casually, as if Kath hadn’t just ripped open his best friends’ oldest wounds. “Think the headline’ll be good today?”

“Hmmm.”

Race butted in. “Even if it ain’t, we still running on fame here! We’s the kings of this city for a few more days yet!”

Jack’s eyes refocused slightly.

Crutchie snorted. “Sure, but that ain’t gonna last long. Wouldn’t wanna forget my sellin’ skills in the meantime.”

“I thought youse had a smile that spread like jam?”

“Butter!” Crutchie corrected.

Jack’s mouth twitched lightly, his head turning towards Crutchie.

“Eh whatever.” Race groaned. “They’d buy from you anyway, with your leg.”

“I don’t need the leg to sell papes!” Crutchie snapped back, but there was no real heat behind it.

Jack clapped Crutchie on the shoulder in solidarity, fully present again, and Davey got it. It was the same routine Race had done after the pounding they’d taken in the square. He wondered at the easy way Race and Crutchie had handled the whole situation. How often had they had to draw Jack back from whatever horrors haunted him?

The thought only solidified Davey’s earlier concerns. Did he really know anything about Jack? He was only a year older than Davey, but truthfully, sometimes Davey couldn’t even comprehend the experience gap between them. Jack had seen things Davey never wanted to even imagine, had survived things Davey shuddered to think about. What could a kid who had grown up on the streets want with a soft schoolboy like Davey?

“Ok there, Davey?” Albert asked, startling him.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry. Morning.”

“Morning.” Albert eyed him suspiciously. “You falling asleep on your feet?”

Davey chuckled dryly. “No. Just thinking.”

“I thought I smelled smoke.” Race teased.

Jack smacked him with his hat. “Nah, Racetrack. Davey’s the smart one, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Race stuck his tongue out playfully.

Jack swatted him again, a grin on his face. Something in Davey relaxed at the sight of Jack smiling and joking again. Seeing his face go blank had been frightening.

The circulation bell rang merrily, Wiesel and the Delanceys taking their places behind the stall. Jack gained his feet, tugging Crutchie up beside him.

“Ready to sell, Davey?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

Jack moved to the head of the line as he always did, the Newsies parting for him easily. Davey trailed in his wake with Race and Crutchie, afforded a place of honor as part of Jack’s retinue.

Jack grabbed a pape to peruse the merchandise, exchanging familiar banter with Wiesel as he did, another day in Newsie square begun.


	6. Tipping Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey finally has a conversation with Jack. Race needs his big brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been sending my friends constant Newsie memes. I'm liking years-old Tumblr posts. I'm finding all these adorable cast videos from Toursies. I am so deep in this fandom it isn't even funny. If you want, comment your favorite character or actor or song or stage goof! I need more awesome Newsie stuff, and I'd love to hear what you guys love about the show!   
> Also, I love all of you! A special shoutout to tinyjamspoons who has commented on like, every chapter. I always get so giddy when I see the email!

“Alright, Davey. What did I do?” Jack asked.

It was nearly noon, the streets almost emptied of the morning crowd. Jack and Davey were taking a quick break in the shade of an awning, only a few papes left between them. It had been a decent morning, with a decent headline, but Davey was starting to see the Newsboy’s fame wearing thin. He was going to have to up his selling game soon, or the Jacobs’ would have to tighten their belts again.

Thankfully, Les had only blossomed in the time post-strike. He was even now hawking his second-to-last pape, his cherubic pout stealing the hearts of even the most jaded passersby.

Davey fleetingly wondered what Jack had looked like, eight years old and already working to survive.

Then the other boy’s words registered, and Davey turned to his companion in surprise. “Do?”

Jack sighed. “Yeah, Davey. Youse been quiet and standoffish to me all morning, but you were fine with Les an’ Race an’ the others. So, what did I do to upset youse?”

“Nothing, Jack.” Davey tried to assure him.

“Was it something I said, this morning?” Jack pressed. “Bout my pops or something? I’m nothing like him, Davey, you have to believe that.”

“No!” Davey grabbed Jack’s shoulders, squeezing the other boy as tight as he dared out in the open like this. “Jackie, no. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. Honestly, I wasn’t even thinking about this morning at all.”

Relief flickered through Jack’s expression. “Ok, then what is it? Cause there’s something going on, Davey. I ain’t stupid.”

Davey sighed. “I just… I’m not like you, Jack.”

He could tell, instantly, that Jack had taken it the wrong way. The other boy dropped his hands like Davey had burned him, curling in on himself in a protective gesture that made Davey’s heart hurt.

“Well, duh.” Jack said, clearly trying for flippant. “We all knows youse the brains.”

“Jack, that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, and what did you mean, then, Davey? You mean I ain’t got nothing to offer you? You’re right. I got fifty cents, a few sketches, an’ a dream of Santa Fe. You mean I don’t fit in to your world? Right again. I ain’t got a ma and pop. No education, no real home, no future. So when you say we ain’t the same, what exactly do you mean?”

“Jack!” Davey grabbed his hands, squeezing them tight. “Jack, I don’t care.”

Jack shook his head, but Davey shushed him.

“Look, I knew all that when I kissed you that night on the rooftop. Ok? You asked me not to promise anything I was just gonna take back in the morning. And I didn’t. I walked into this with my eyes wide open.”

Jack is still wound tight as a bowstring. Davey rubs circles against the tanned wrists with his thumbs, desperate to ease him.

“Jackie. I was upset this morning because I was thinking about how boring I must seem compared to you. You’ve survived so much, done so much in your life. Other than the strike, my only adventures have been in books. You opened up a whole new world to me, Jack. I never knew I could lead. I never knew I could face down someone like Spot Conlon, or Pulitzer! With you by my side, I feel brave and strong and ready to take on the world. That’s what you offer me, Jack. Not money or possessions or some society-perfect life.”

Jack sighed, the tension melting from him slowly. “Ready to take on the world, eh?”

Davey shrugged, blushing. “Yeah, well. You bring out a whole new side of me.”

Jack huffed a quiet laugh. “It funny, cause you’re the first person I’ve ever met who makes me feel like I don’t have to face the whole world. At least, not alone. My whole life has been a fight, for survival, for food, for a place to sleep. But loving you, Davey… it’s the easiest thing I ever did.”

“Jack.” Davey blinks hard. “You can’t say things like that when I can’t kiss you.”

Thankfully Les broke the mood. “What’re you standing around for! We got papes to sell!”

Jack squeezed Davey’s hand one last time before letting go.

“Later.” Jack promised, winking.

Davey carried that promise like a candle against his heart the rest of the day.

Once evening pape is done, Davey and Les tag along to the lodging house as is becoming their usual routine. Les darts off to join Smalls and some of the other littles as soon as they enter, leaving Jack and Davey in the doorway.

Jack takes full advantage of the opportunity. He crowds Davey against the wall, calloused hands warm on Davey’s hips. Kissing Jack is like the soda Davey had gotten a taste of once, all bright bubbles and a sweet aftertaste that lingers in his belly. He melts into the sensation for a long moment.

When Jack finally pulls away, he’s grinning smugly. Davey feels his cheeks heating, his hands moving to smooth down his ruffled hair.

“None of that.” Jack murmurs, catching his hands, his long artist’s fingers tangling in Davey’s own. “You’re beautiful, darlin’.”

“Everyone’s gonna know.” Davey whines softly.

“Let ‘em. Most of them already suspect. Besides,” Jack stole another kiss, “I want them to know you’re mine.”

Well, when Jack put it that way. “Ok.” Davey agreed.

His face was still flaming, and he couldn’t quite meet anyone’s eyes as he and Jack walked hand in hand into the common room. But Jack’s palm was solid and steady against his own, and Davey couldn’t help the swell of pride that rose in his chest.

He was Jack Kelly’s sweetheart, and that was a fact.

Race was the first one to see them, and the kid laughed, nudging Albert, who looked up and grinned. Crutchie noticed, glancing over to see what they were looking at, and his face lit up when he saw them.

It was Les who squealed, alerting the others, and a moment later it was all winks and wolf whistles, the boys congratulating Davey and ribbing Jack in equal measure.

“This calls for a celebration!” Albert yelled, holding up his glass of water like a toast.

“Yeah!” Chorused the Newsies, always up for a party no matter how thin the excuse. 

It wasn’t much, being that they were all very poor and also unprepared, but Davey had found that the Newsies could turn anything into an event merely by their infectious enthusiasm. Simple games became competitive death matches, an off-key hum became a full chorus, a few simple steps became an intricate dance. It was the kind of joy that only happened when you knew every second was a gift.

Davey found himself tugged from Jack’s side and roped into some strange game Specs and Romeo were teaching the littles. Jack was pulled aside by Albert, Mush, and Blink, who were holding a conversation that included a lot of wild hand gestures. Crutchie had joined Bumlets, Buttons, and Elmer in an impromptu band composed of hitting objects together in a vague sort of rhythm. Race was playing another sort of game with Henry, Finch, and JoJo. Kloppman poked his head in once, presumably to see what all the noise was about, but left them to it with an indulgent smile.

Davey was just thinking about collecting Les and heading home, when Race’s voice startled him, rising suddenly above the din.

“I ain’t!”

Davey craned his neck, trying to see what had Race upset. Albert and Jack had both gone tense. Crutchie’s enthusiastic banging stopped abruptly.

“I ain’t!” Race yelled at Henry, standing now. “You take that back!”

Albert started forward, but Jack stopped him with a hand, moving towards Racetrack himself.

“Race…” Henry said, looking confused.

“I ain’t a liar!” Race’s voice broke suddenly. His head flew up, his eyes darting across the room until they landed on Jack. “I ain’t lyin’.” He whispered, low and raw.

“I know.” Jack said quietly, keeping slow and open as he approached. “I know you ain’t, Racer. It’s okay.”

“I ain’t.” Race insisted once more, and then he burst into tears.

Jack was there in an instant. He didn’t bother with a warning, just picked Race up like a child and tucked the lanky teen against his chest like he weighed nothing at all. A moment later, they were gone, the door to the dorm closing firmly behind them.

Davey turned to Specs for an explanation. “Is he okay?”

Albert and Finch began to move through the Newsies, redirecting their focus back to their prior activities. Crutchie restarted the band louder than ever.

Specs sighed. “Yeah. We were just waiting for this to happen, poor kid. Racetrack’s been under a lot of stress with the strike and all, not to mention the whole mess with Crutchie and the Refuge. But Jack’s got him.”

“They were in the Refuge together.”

“Yeah. Got arrested at the same time, but Racetrack got a lighter sentence because he hadn’t been in before. Didn’t stop the kid from seeing the worst of what went down though.”

“How old was he?”

Specs jaw tightened. “Just turned twelve.”

Nausea roiled in Davey’s gut. “He set Jack’s arm at twelve years old?”

Specs nodded sharply. “Jack was fourteen going on fifteen. Tried his best to protect Race, but after it happened…” His eyes slipped shut. “When we got Race back, we weren’t sure he was going to make it. He was so thin, so horribly broken in spirit. They had to drag him kicking and screaming out of the Refuge because he didn’t want to leave Jack behind.”

“That’s…” Davey couldn’t continue.

“He didn’t speak for weeks. Him and Crutchie spent all their time in the penthouse, curled up in Jack’s bed. He’d barely eat, barely sleep. We tried everything, but we couldn’t get through to him. He was absolutely sure he’d left Jack to die.”

“What happened?”

Specs shrugged. “Jack escaped. How he held on to that carriage with a broken arm I have no idea, but he did. He shows up at the front door soaked to the skin, shaking with fever, out of his mind with pain, and the only thing he can say, over and over, is ‘Racer. Where’s Racer?’.” Specs shook his head. “They’ve never been able to talk much about what actually happened inside. But whatever it was, it bonded them real tight.”

“So, this, tonight…”

“Race and Jack are both real good at compartmentalizing. It’s what makes them good leaders. They can stuff whatever they’re feeling away until it’s safe to let go. You saw it at Jacobi’s. Race was a shattered mess, but he still managed to cheer everyone up and get them reenergized. Still, all that pent-up emotion has to go somewhere. Somethin’ Henry said musta hit just right, and it was over.”

“Poor Racetrack.”

“Yeah.” Specs glanced over at Crutchie, who gave him a nod. “You can go check on them if you want Davey. We usually send Crutchie, but Race won’t mind you going instead.”

“Are you sure?”

Specs nodded. “Jack’ll bunk with him tonight anyway, so if you want to see your boyfriend before you head home, now’s your chance.” His mouth twitched slightly, teasing.

Davey blushed. “That’s not…”

Specs chuckled. “Hey, I’m really happy for you, okay? You’re good for him. And Jack Kelly might be rough around the edges, but he’s somethin’ special. He’ll treat you right.”

“Thanks Specs.”

“Go get ‘em.”

Davey slunk out of the room, torn between embarrassment at going into what was essentially Jack’s bedroom – even if he shared it with several dozen other boys and rarely actually used it – and nervousness that someone would suddenly disapprove of him going to check on Race.

He forgot all of it the moment the dorm door clicked shut behind him, blocking out the cacophony of Newsies.

Jack was singing.

It was low and sweet, some lullaby Davey couldn’t quite make out the words to. Jack’s voice was steady and soothing, not quite good, but somehow more beautiful for its flaws.

He was lying on his back, Race’s head on his chest, the younger boy wrapped in Jack’s arms. Race was sniffling softly against Jack’s neck, clutching the older boy’s shirt tight in his fists.

Jack met Davey’s eyes, his voice not pausing until he reached the end of a verse.

“Hey.” Davey said into the sudden silence. “I was sent to check on you.”

Jack lifted a hand.

Davey moved closer, taking it and letting Jack tug him in until he was crouched next to the bed.

Race untucked himself enough to blink blearily at Davey, still quietly sniffling.

Davey gave the kid a sad smile. “Hey there, Race. You doing okay?”

Race gave him a tiny, tired smile, untangling one fist to rub at his eyes. “Sorry.”

Jack opened his mouth, but Davey beat him to it. “None of that, Racetrack. You have every right to fall apart sometimes. It’s been a rough few weeks, huh?”

Jack’s jaw twitched, his arms tightening. His guilt was an almost tangible presence. Davey lifted their joined hands to his mouth and pressed his lips to Jack’s knuckles.

“We’re gonna get through this.” Davey promised them both. “We’re gonna be okay.”


	7. Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mayer Jacobs has news that sends Davey into a tailspin. Jack and Davey share a night in the Penthouse.

The next month passed relatively uneventfully as the last dregs of summer gave way to fall.

Davey and Les spent nearly every day with the Newsies, hawking papes by day and hanging at the lodging house in the evenings. Sarah joined them occasionally, as did Kath. Both girls had been accepted into the Newsie’s tightknit circle with ease.

Davey watched with some amusement every time his stoic sister went nearly incoherent at the sight of the fiery reporter. He suspected, by the flames that painted Kath’s cheeks whenever Sarah smiled, that the feelings weren’t entirely unrequited.

Jack, Crutchie, and Race healed slowly. Sometimes they would show up for the morning edition with dark circles under their eyes. Sometimes Jack would flinch if someone moved too fast on his right. Sometimes Race ripped his cigar to shreds from fidgeting. Sometimes Crutchie would start to shake, breathing too quickly until someone helped him calm down again.

But the instances got fewer and further between as the boys left Snyder and the Refuge behind, their minds now occupied with other things- like leading a union and dealing with the other boroughs. Davey found the inter-borough workings not dissimilar to his government lessons in school, if not much more efficiently run then the actual government seemed to be.

Spot and Jack had come to terms, a miracle that Davey had no doubt Race was at least partially responsible for. Spot and Jack might not agree on anything else, but they would both do anything for Racetrack Higgins. It was a power the lanky blond used wisely and to great effect.

In other words, everything was absolutely perfect.

Until Mayer Jacobs smiled at his children over the breakfast table and announced that his arm was healed enough for him to go back to work.

Davey stared at his father, suddenly unable to breathe. “What?”

“Isn’t it wonderful!” Esther gushed, squeezing her husband’s hand. “Sarah can stop taking on so many extra projects, I can go back to my usual amount of laundry orders, and best of all, you boys can go back to school!”

The room was spinning. Davey couldn’t feel his body. He was barely conscious of standing.

“Davey?” Sarah asked, her face white.

He shook his head, or at least he thought he did. He couldn’t speak, his throat seemed to be gone.

“Davey!” Esther cried, reaching for him.

He found his feet and fled.

He didn’t remember choosing a direction, but his feet took him where he wanted to go all the same.

“Davey.” There were hands on him, clutching his shoulders. “Hey Davey, whatsa matter?”

“Race, is he okay? He’s pale as a ghost!”

“Shut up! Someone get Jack!”

“He’s crying! Did something happen to Les? Sarah?”

“What’s going on?”

“Hold on, Davey. Jack’s coming. Just hold on.”

The world swirled and washed away, and then there was only black.

When Davey came to, he was staring up at Jack’s head, his head pillowed in Jack’s lap. Several of the other Newsies were crowded around them.

“Hey.” Jack said, brushing back his hair. “You with us?”

Davey swallowed, trying to get moisture back in his mouth. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Jack looked up, meeting Race’s eyes and jerking his head. Instantly, Race cleared the other boys out, giving Jack and Davey some space.

Jack looked back down, giving Davey a tremulous smile. “Scared me half to death, Jacobs. I had just made it outside when you went down. Thought for a second…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

Davey reached up, finding his wrist and gripping it tight. “I’m okay. I’m okay, Jack. I’m sorry I freaked out like that.”

“What happened?” Jack asked. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah. Oh damn.” Davey covered his face.

“What?”

“I totally freaked out. I just… everything is going to change now, and I’m not ready! I’m happy here!”

“Davey,” Jack said. His voice was patient, but Davey knew him well enough to hear the note of fear buried in it. “you’re scaring me.”

“Dad’s arm is better.”

Jack blinked.

“Jack. Dad’s arm is completely healed up.”

He sees the moment Jack understands. Jack’s face shutters completely, going dark in a way that’s almost as frightening as when he was lost in nightmarish memories.

Davey blinks back tears again, reaching up to cup Jack’s cheek. “Hey. Jack. Look at me. Look at me, please.”

Jack’s jaw tightens, but he looks down. There is no emotion showing in his eyes, but Davey can feel the faint tremor that runs through him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Davey promises fervently, trying to sear the words into Jack’s skin. “Jackie. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

Jack’s mask cracks. He lifts Davey’s hand, closing his eyes tight as he presses a kiss to the palm. “I love you too, darlin’.” He rasps.

“Davey!”

It’s Sarah and Les, wild-eyed and out of breath as they skid up to the loitering group of Newsies.

“Hey, hey!” Race says, holding up a hand to slow their mad dash. “He’s fine. He’s right over there.”

Davey holds out a hand to them, and his siblings rush over, piling themselves against him. Since he’s already basically on Jack’s lap, this results in an awkward pile of bodies, Les squished between Davey’s shoulder and Jack’s torso, and Sarah pressed against Davey’s other side, one of her arms including Jack in the group hug.

“Oh, Davey.” Sarah babbled. “I’m sorry pa dropped that on you like that, but he probably thought you’d be happy. You liked school, and we all knew you were disappointed when you had to quit, and pa knew things had changed but not how much.”

Les whined. “I don’t wanna go back to school.”

“You got to.” Jack said firmly. “Trust me, kid. This life isn’t one you choose, not if you’ve got other options.”

“But I like bein’ a Newsie.”

“An’ what’re ya gonna do when you turn eighteen and can’t sell anymore?”

Les shrugged.

Jack smiled at him sadly. “Youse got a life ahead a’ ya, kid. But you gotta go to school first.”

“Ok.” Les sighed, willing to believe his hero.

“We’s gonna be late, Jack.” Race piped up from nearby.

Davey raised his head to realize almost all the boys had already cleared out, heading for the square.

“C’mon.” Jack said, standing and offering Davey his hand. “Let’s go carry the banner together one last time.”

It was a bittersweet day. One the one hand, Davey had no intention of this being his last day of selling. Depending on his schedule he might be able to sneak in the occasional evening edition, and there was always the weekend. Even so, there was the feeling of a chapter closing, of a curtain falling. After today, Davey would be a guest only, a occasional visitor to the world he had inhabited for the past months.

He was going to miss it fiercely.

He lingered a bit longer than usual over his last pape, a feeling of loss swamping him when he finally sold it. Jack took one look at his face and leaned down to whisper something to Les. The kid nodded and scurried away.

Davey started, but Jack grabbed his hand. “S’ok, Davey. Didn’t you notice?”

Davey looked where Jack was pointing and saw his own tenement building, the familiar streets coming into focus. “Oh.”

Jack huffed a laugh. “I sent Les to tell your parents you’re spending the night at the House.”

“Oh.” Davey turned to him, gripping his hand tight. “Thank you, Jack.”

“C’mon.”

They hurried back to the lodging house, the streets fading to dusk around them. There was a tired air surrounding all of the boys tonight, and only a few of them even glanced up as Jack and Davey made their way through the common room to the dorm, and then out to the Penthouse.

Jack sighed, breathing in the crisp outside air. “Only a few more nights to use this place this year. Then I gotta go break in my old bed inside.”

Davey walked up behind him, fitting them together back to front and wrapping his arms around Jack’s middle. He rested his chin on Jack’s shoulder and sighed. “It feels like everything is ending.”

Jack tipped his head to rest against Davey’s, one hand coming up to cover Davey’s fingers. “Yeah. But you and I will still be here tomorrow, and I will still love you. The important things don’t change.”

Davey smiled and kissed his cheek. “I guess not.”

“Will you…” Jack hesitated. “Can I hold you tonight?”

“Yeah, Jackie. Of course.”

They curled up together under the threadbare blanket, and Davey was instantly grateful for Jack’s warmth as the night cooled around them. He rests his head on Jack’s shoulder, letting the strong heartbeat lull him towards sleep.

“I’m takin’ the job.” Jack says suddenly.

Davey pulls back to look at him. “The job?”

“Pulitzer’s job. The political cartoons.”

“Jack, that’s great!”

Jack shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “It pays decent, and we’re gonna need the money with winter coming.”

Davey fingers the tattered blanket, one of the few the lodging house boasts. It’s a stark reminder. “Are you guys going to be okay?”

Jack shrugs lightly. “We’ll make it through. We always do.”

Davey presses his lips to Jack’s shoulder, trying to banish the image of a shivering eight-year-old tucked into a street corner. When he finally falls asleep, he dreams of driving snow and icy wind, a child crying lonely in the dark.

Davey wakes early, grateful to put the troubled night behind him. Jack’s face is peaceful against the slowly lightening sky, his warm breath brushing Davey’s hair with every exhale.

Davey lets himself linger, brushing featherlight touches across Jack’s skin, memorizing the lines of his hands, the freckles and moles that dot his arms and shoulders. Like this, Jack looks younger than his seventeen years. This isn’t Manhattan leader Jack Kelly, or escaped prisoner Jack Kelly, or union leader Jack Kelly, or any of his other roles and titles. It was just Jack, all of his walls down.

It’s breathtaking.

Davey knows, in less than an hour, that Jack will wake. That the weight of the world will resettle itself on Jack’s shoulders. That Jack will once again become father, brother, friend, leader, diplomat, judge, peacekeeper, and a hundred other things for the boys who rely on him.

But for now, Davey gets this.

He’s never loved Jack Kelly more.


	8. School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey faces his first day of school.

The next morning is a Sunday. As much as Davey wants to go with Jack to the square and pretend like nothing is changing, he knows he needs to go home and prepare for school. He doubts his old uniform will fit him now, not with months of carrying around papes and walking all over Manhattan every day.

Jack walks him home, even though it means the older boy will be late to the distribution center. They walk as close as they dare without raising suspicion, Davey already missing the fervent kisses Jack had lavished him with upon waking.

The Jacobs’ tenement building looms in front of them, and Jack stops.

Davey turns to look at him. “This isn’t a goodbye, Jack. I promise. I’m still gonna be around all the time. You’re gonna get sick of me.”

Jack smiled faintly. “I’d never get sick of you, babe. I could spend every waking second with you and still find new things to love.”

Davey blushed. “Jack, seriously. That’s not fair.”

Jack shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “Guess you’ll have to come and make me pay for that later.”

“I promise.”

Jack swallowed. “I’ll see you soon, Davey Jacobs.”

“Bye, Jack.”

Davey watched him go until the other boy reached the corner, fading into the morning crowds.

Inside, the Jacobs were already moving. Mayer was stood on a stool, Sarah standing in front of him with pins in her mouth, tugging at his old suit. Mayer had lost weight during his recovery, and would need the suit taken in a bit.

“David!” Esther said happily as he stepped into the kitchen. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Yeah.” Davey kissed her cheek. “Sorry about yesterday, mama.”

“Never mind that now. Come on, into the bedroom. I suspect we will need to take out the hems on your old uniform.”

Davey followed her, Esther pulling out the other stool and fussing over her sewing kit.

“Just try and put on your suit and let’s see where we’re at.”

The pants were a bit too tight and long, but Davey managed it. The shirt and jacket were hopeless, though. Esther chuckled when she saw the shirt hanging uselessly below his bicep.

“Oh dear. I hope there’s enough fabric left there! My big strong boy.”

She took the shirt from him and nudged him onto the stool, humming as she measured his pant legs before moving on to his arms.

“So. How is your boy? Jack?”

Davey coughed. “Uh, yeah, I mean, Jack Kelly. My boy? Uh…”

Esther paused, holding a pin just above the fabric at his shoulder. “David, darling. You and that charming young man took nine-year-old Les backstage to a burlesque show, and neither of you saw a thing wrong with that. I know.”

“I…”

Esther went back to her task, eyeing the sleeve she was pinning critically. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes.” Davey whispered.

“Good.”

She finished pinning, pulling the fabric away.

“You aren’t… angry?”

Esther sighed. “It’s not what I wanted for you, certainly. We already face so much hate for who we are, and loving a boy isn’t going to make your life any easier.” She cupped his cheek in one hand. “But darling, if he’s the one making you as happy as you’ve been these past few months, then who am I to stand in the way of that.”

Davey blinked back tears.

Esther patted his cheek and bent over her sewing basket, rummaging for supplies. “You ought to bring him around more often. He’s such a polite boy.”

Davey thought of the way Jack had kissed him that morning and felt heat rise to his cheeks. “Yeah. Sure, mama. I’ll do that.”

“Good. Now, go ask Sarah where she put my good scissors.”

The rest of the day flew by. Sarah and Esther busily resewed the hems on Mayer and Davey’s clothes. Les was set to scrubbing out his and Davey lunch pails and shining their good shoes. Davey looked over a list of what his class had already covered in the month and a half of school he’d missed, trying to figure out which subjects he needed to focus on first to catch up.

By dinner, he was drooping, his eyes blurry from hours of pouring over textbooks he’d barely cracked before today. The rest of the family wasn’t much better. They ate a cold dinner and turned in early, the specter of tomorrow heavy over all their shoulders.

Davey looked out the window at the stars and blew a kiss, imagining it flying all the way to the Penthouse and falling softly on Jack’s cheek.

He didn’t remember falling asleep.

Les was an absolute nightmare come morning. He did not want to go to school, and he waged his own private strike on the entire Jacobs’ family in protest. It was all Davey and Esther could do to get him in his uniform and shoes and out the door.

There were already Newsies on the streets. Somehow Davey had forgotten that the Newsies would have been up an hour earlier, just hitting the streets in earnest at the time he was walking to school. He knew this wasn’t Jack’s route, but he still looked for the other boy, scanning the face of every boy holding papes for the one he wanted to see.

He saw Blink and Mush, tag teaming the line of shops. Jojo and Bumlets were staked out near the offices. Mike and Ike were less than three yards from the school.

Davey waved at the twins, trying not to be disappointed.

And then a shadow detached itself from the side of the brick school building, Jack Kelly sauntering over with his hands in his pockets. He saw Davey’s expression and smirked.

“Didn’t think I’d forget my best guy on his first day of school, now?”

“Jack.” Davey breathed; a weight he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying falling off his shoulders.

“Hey.” Jack said softly.

For a long moment they stared at each other, their eyes saying all the things they couldn’t speak out loud.

Les rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna go inside. Bye Jack!”

“See ya, kiddo.” Jack said, ruffling Les’ hair as he passed.

“I should go to.” Davey said reluctantly.

“Yeah.” Jack nodded. “I know.” He shuffled a foot, looking shy all of a sudden. “Can I come pick you up after?”

“Oh, Jack, I’d love that!”

Jack looked relieved. “Okay. Good. I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah. And, Jack? Thanks.”

Jack smiled. “Have fun at school, Davey.”

Fun was not precisely the word Davey would have used. Jumping in to the middle of a school year was hard enough, with lessons he barely understood due to missing prior information, trying to figure out his schedule and navigate to all of his classes on time, and the fact that his classmates had moved on without him.

In fairness, Davey had had his own adventures without them, had grown and changed in ways they might never be able to understand or accept. Still, he wouldn’t have traded his experiences for the world. He knew what he was capable of now, and that was worth everything.

He was feeling pretty good about himself until lunch, when a bullish kid in the grade above him stepped into his path. His name was Andrew Hatfield, one of the richer boys at the school. He was of the opinion that his father’s wealth made him some kind of lord over the rest of the peasants.

Davey had never liked him, although he had never really crossed Andrew’s radar before.

Andrew eyed him up and down, dragging his eyes over the faded uniform Esther had so recently restitched. He gave a deprecating chuckle. “Jacobs. Is it true you were a Newsie? That’s why you missed so much school this year?”

“It’s true.” Davey sighed, setting down his books. He began rolling up his sleeves slowly, revealing the muscles he’d spent two months building. “You gonna soak me for it?”

Andrew’s eyes widened, and he gulped. It was clear he’d been expecting to face the scrawny nerd Davey had been last year. “Nah. Guess I’ll let you off this time. At least now you’ve come to your senses and left the gutter rats behind.”

Davey’s fists clenched. “Don’t call them that.”

One of Andrew’s friends grabbed his arm. “Whatever man. Let’s go.”

“Just remember where you belong, Jacobs.” Andrew snarled as he walked away, his posse trailing him.

Davey sighed and picked up his books. Three more classes to go.

Jack took one look at him as he left the school building behind, Les in tow, and grimaced.

“That bad, huh?” The Newsie asked.

“Ugh.” Davey muttered, dropping his head onto Jack’s shoulder.

Jack laughed, the sound rumbling pleasantly against Davey’s ear, and he felt the day’s tension slide away.

Les skipped around them on the way home, chattering about his friends and teachers. Clearly someone had had a good day. Jack and Davey walked slowly, their shoulders brushing as often as they could manage it. Davey desperately needed Jack closer.

Jack must have sensed it, or else he was equally as anxious, because he sent Les on ahead as soon as they turned onto the tenement’s street.

Les gave him a knowing look, but obediently scampered off.

As soon as he hit the stairs of the Jacobs’ building, Jack grabbed Davey by the tie and tugged him into the nearby alley. Davey’s back hit the wall, Jack on him almost at once, hands roaming against his hips, rucking up his shirt, Jack’s mouth hot against his own. He gave as good as he got, blindly fumbling with the buttons of Jack’s vest until it fell open, smoothing his hands against the smooth planes of Jack’s torso.

For a long moment, Davey let himself get lost in the feel of Jack’s body against his own. Pressed against the sturdy wall, Jack a solid presence on his other side, Davey had never felt safer or more wanted. Jack was as intoxicating now as he had been that first day in Newsie square, a wildfire painting Davey’s world in colors he’d never imagined before.

Jack finally pulled back, looking Davey over with a pleased grin. “That’s better.”

“Mmmm.” Davey replied.

“Guess you won’t be leaving me for any of those fancy schoolboys, eh Davey?”

Davey huffed a laugh, wrapping his arms around Jack and tucking him close, pressing his nose in the Newsie’s neck. “Never.”

With Andrew’s sneer still fresh in his mind, Davey couldn’t help comparing the bully to Jack. Andrew’s school uniform was practically new, still stiff and shiny. His hair was styled, his face clean and light from a lifetime spent indoors. His hands were soft and covered in a healthy layer of fat. In contrast, Jack’s clothes were well-worn, faded and patched from years of use. His hair was chopped slightly unevenly, probably by Kloppman, his skin darkened by both his natural heritage and years spent outdoors in all weathers. His hands were calloused, crisscrossed by faded scars, thin from years of hard living.

In summary, Jack was worth ten of Andrew, or of any boy at that school.

“I love you, Jackie.”

“Love ya too, darlin’. You comin’ to catch the evening edition with us?”

“I can’t.” Davey sighed regretfully. “I have a crazy amount of work to do to catch up in all of my classes. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sell at all until the weekend.”

“S’ok.” Jack said, though he was clearly disappointed. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you’re really good at math.”

Jack shrugged. “I ain’t, other than the basics you need to sell papes and such. But if you want, I can send Race over. He’s got a real good head for numbers.”

“Really?”

“You surprised cause a Newsie can do math, or because it’s Race?”

Davey shrugged. “He doesn’t seem like the type, I guess.”

“Racer’s always been one of those kids who would get in trouble for not sitting still and such. His mind works too fast, and he gets bored easily. But the flip side of that is he can understand stuff really quick, and he happens to like the challenge that math presents.”

“If he’s willing, I’d be glad of the help.” Davey agreed.

“I’ll talk to him tonight then. I can send him over after supper?”

“Sure. Thanks, Jack.”

Jack kissed him again, quick and sweet. “Gotta go. Papes won’t sell themselves.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“I’ll pick you up from school.” Jack promised.

This time, watching Jack leave didn’t feel so final. The promise of tomorrow was enough.

Davey headed inside to face a mountain of homework.


	9. Matchmaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey conquers his math lesson with a little help, attends a union rally, and plays matchmaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing is going to be a monster. I have so many ideas. 
> 
> Also, I changed my tumblr to @alannaofroseswritesfanfic, in case anyone is following me. I will be posting more Newsies stuff soon with the rebranding!

Davey was so focused on his work, Esther bringing him his share of supper at the little table in the bedroom, that he startled when there was a rap at the door.

Esther looked up from the dishes in surprise. “Who could that be?”

Davey lurched to his feet, wincing as his body protested being forcefully unfolded from its cramped position. “Oh! Uh, its one of the Newsies.”

Esther pursed her lips. “David, dear, should you really be having friends over right now?”

“He’s here to help with my math, mama.” Davey reassured her.

“Oh.” It was clear Esther didn’t quite believe him, but Davey couldn’t do anything about that at the moment.

He lifted the latch, letting the door swing open. Race stood on the other side, shuffling his feet, his ever-present cigar twirling around his fingers.

“Hey.” Davey smiled at him. “Thanks for coming.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Race said. He caught sight of Esther, jerked a bit, and tried to hide the cigar.

“Easy, Racetrack.” Davey soothed. “You don’t have to perform for us. You’re fine just as you are. Come on in.”

Race snatched the cap off his head and stepped inside. “Mrs. Jacobs.”

“Hello… Racetrack?” Esther answered.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is that your real name?”

“Well, it ain’t the name I was born with, if that’s what you’re askin’. But its mine all the same.” He hesitated a moment. “Mrs. Jacobs? No offence, but it ain’t polite to ask a Newsie for their born name unless they offer it.”

“Oh.” Esther said. “I apologize then, Racetrack. Why is it impolite?”

Race shrugged. “Most of ‘em don’t come from good places. Their born names remind them of what they left behind. Every Newsie gets a new name. Make’s ‘em part of a new family.”

“Oh.” Esther processed this. “Is… is Jack Kelly a nickname too?”

Race smiled patiently. “You’d have to ask him that, Mrs. Jacobs.”

Davey nudged Race’s shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s see if you can make heads or tails of this assignment for me.”

Race proved to be as good as Jack had said, quickly figuring out the lesson and explaining it to Davey in a way that actually made sense. They worked through the practice problems together, and then Race sprawled on Davey’s bed while Davey finished the set.

Race was swinging his legs over the side, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the quilt, all casual grace.

The words were out almost before Davey had fully formed the idea. “I never thought about it before.”

Race paused his tapping, glancing over. “Thought ‘a what?”

“Whether Jack is a nickname.”

Race sat up. “I ain’t telling you, either.”

“I know.” Davey assured him. “I just… I think I already know the answer, and I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that he never told me.”

Race sighed. “Just… be careful about when you ask ‘im, okay? Jack’s past isn’t somethin’ he likes to talk about. He’ll do it, because it’s you, but then he’d tear himself to pieces to keep you safe. He has before. Just, promise me you won’t hurt him.”

Davey smiled sadly. “You’re a good kid, Race.”

Race shrugged. “Oh, and Davey?”

“Hmm?”

“You got that last problem wrong.”

An hour later, Davey walked Race out. “Thanks for the help. Really. Your explanations made that go so much faster.”

Race shrugged. “Math makes sense. You comin’ to the union meeting tomorrow night?”

“What?”

“Oops.” Race said innocently, though he didn’t look very sorry. “Guess Jack forgot to tell you. With Jack going to work for Pulitzer for real, the union is going to be led by committee instead of by Jack alone. We’re electing the representatives tomorrow.”

Davey sighed. “I understand why Jack kept it from me, but I wish he wouldn’t. Thanks to your help, I should be perfectly able to take a few hours off for the meeting. I’ll be there.”

“Good. Night, Davey!”

“Night, Race!”

The next afternoon, as promised, Jack was waiting by the schoolyard gate.

“So,” Davey said, falling in step with him, Les darting ahead. “union meeting tonight?”

Jack tripped, caught himself. “How…” His eyes narrowed. “Racetrack.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Jack sighed. “I know you’re busy…”

“Jack.” Davey stopped him, gripping his wrist. “I’m your partner in this, okay? Yes, I’m busy. But the union is important, too. I’m not missing this.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped in relief. “I’se gotta admit I’d feel better with you there. You’re the brains, after all.”

“You would have done fine on your own, Jack.” Davey assured him. “But the thing is, you don’t have to. You aren’t alone.”

“Thanks Davey.” Jack smiled at him, those sunset eyes bright and warm.

Davey tightened the hand on his wrist. “Alley. Now.”

Jack smirked, checking both ways before ducking them into an alley.

They didn’t emerge for quite a while.

Kath was waiting impatiently at the lodging house when they arrived. A man stood next to her, his calm presence a distinct contrast to Kath’s twitching.

Jack stiffened at the sight of the adult so near the lodging house. Other than Kloppman himself, almost no one under the age of twenty visited. Davey knew that was at least partially because of the bad experiences many of the Newsies associated with adults.

Kath caught sight of them. “Jack! Davey! Finally!”

“Who’s he?” Jack demanded abruptly.

“This is Denton!” Kath said excitedly. “Remember I was telling you about him? He’s my mentor at the Sun. He’s been helping me cover real stories!”

Denton waved off the praise. “She’s been doing the work. I’ve just been making sure it gets to the right people.” He held out a hand to Jack. “Bryan Denton, reporter. You must be Jack Kelly.”

“Mebbe I am.”

Kath sighed. “Jack, honestly.”

Davey reached out to shake the hand Jack was still pointedly ignoring. “David Jacobs.”

Denton nodded. “I’ve heard of you too. Two days as a Newsie and co-leading a strike. Gotta say I’m impressed, Mr. Jacobs.”

Davey had to admit Denton was smart. He may not know the full situation, but he had read them well enough to realize the easiest way to Jack was through Davey. Jack had already relaxed at the honest praise, the open hostility fading from his posture.

“Thank you, sir.” Davey said.

“What are youse doing here, Kitty?” Jack asked.

“We were hoping to tag along to the union meeting tonight.” Kath explained. “Denton is helping me craft a series of articles shining a light on the working kids of the city, and of course we wanted to start with the Newsies and their successful union.”

“Guess it couldn’t hurt to get some more press.” Jack admitted.

“It won’t be front page news this time,” Kath continued, “but we need to keep the city aware of what’s going on. We can’t let any more kids be taken advantage of the way you guys were.”

Davey smiled at her. “I think its great. Just be prepared, both of you. The union meetings can get a little… rough.”

Denton looked concerned. “In what way?”

Jack smirked. “Well, we street kids are used ta settling things with our fists. Occasionally tempers get riled, and the debates become a little physical. But we don’ need no outside help, yeah? Youse stay outta it. Don’t want you takin’ a punch by accident.”

Denton smiled. “I am well used to a reporter’s job. I won’t interfere.”

“Good.” Jack nodded. “Okay. I need ta get the boys, and then we should be heading out.”

Jack disappeared into the lodging house, Davey waiting on the street with Kath and Denton. The evening was crisp, a hint of coming cold in its grasp as it played with Kath’s hair. The laughter and chatter of passersby mingled with the faint, far-off strains of music, a New York City lullaby.

It didn’t take long before the boys came tumbling out. Jack must have warned them about Denton, because no one reacted to his presence. Some of them took off at once for the theatre, whooping and hollering as they went, while others strolled slowly, chatting and joking.

Jack was one of the last to emerge, Race, Albert, and Crutchie forming up around him like an honor guard. Davey fell into place with them almost without thinking. He saw Denton watching them, his keen eyes knowing. Davey wondered where else he had seen such loyalty, to recognize it so easily.

Jack offered his arm to Kath. “Comin’, my lady?” He teased.

Kath put her nose in the air, stepping daintily to his side. “But of course.” She giggled, dropping the act as she took his arm, and Jack led them away.

The theatre was already buzzing when they arrived. Newsies from every borough were in attendance, almost as many as during the rally. Today would be the last time they would all attend, except on special occasions, as tonight was about electing the representatives who would be able to meet in a smaller group.

Spot, several of his boys around him, was standing on the steps of the stage. Race smiled at the sight of him. Jack kissed Kath’s fingers and left her by the door with Denton, where they could see the whole room, before making his way up to the stage. Albert and Crutchie also fell away, taking up positions with the other Manhattan Newsies.

Davey could see the other borough leaders also approaching, and soon enough each borough had three representatives onstage, one leader and two seconds.

Spot called the theater to order.

“Newsies of New York City! We did something no one thought we could do. We won the right to be the equal of any working adult in this city!”

The Newsies cheered, and Spot quickly silenced them.

“Now, we need to continue what we started. To that end, we will be electing two representatives from each borough tonight to do the work of the union. These representatives cannot be the acting leaders of their respective boroughs. Each district will bring forth their nominations, and then the membership will vote. Agreed?”

More cheers.

“Manhattan!”

The voting actually went much more smoothly than Davey had expected it to. Albert and Finch were elected for Manhattan, which Davey thought were very good choices. Albert especially would benefit from the leadership role as he prepared to be Race’s second someday, and Finch had a good head on his shoulders.

Once the business was officially concluded, the rally devolved into a general gathering time, the boys rubbing shoulders with acquaintances from the other boroughs, some friendly and some not-so-friendly.

“Are they always like this?” A woman asked Davey.

He glanced over at her. She stood out in the crowd of Newsies in her fine clothes and carefully perfect hair, much like Kath used to. “Uh, more or less, miss…?”

“Hannah.” The woman said, holding out a hand. “I work for Mr. Pulitzer. He sent me to get a feel for the pulse of the union.”

“His words, huh?”

Hannah smiled. “More or less. I gotta say, off the record, I’m pretty impressed by what you boys accomplished. Mr. Pulitzer isn’t one to back down easily.”

“Davey!” Kath was pushing her way through the crowd, pen poised. “Any quote from tonight for the article?”

Hannah blushed, and Davey followed her gaze to Denton, who looked just as stunned. He hid a smile behind his hand. “Sure, Kath. Hey, Denton. Maybe you should get some quotes from Hannah here. She works for Pulitzer, and might have a unique perspective.” Before either of the adults could respond, Davey pulled Kath away into the crowd.

Kath was giggling. “That was mean.”

“A little bit.” Davey admitted, grinning back. “Did you see their faces?”

“Matchmaker.”

“I’ll make you a match with my sister.”

Katherine sputtered. “What? No…I… what?” She whacked him with her bag. “That’s not funny, David Jacobs.”

“It was a little bit funny.”

Kath hesitated. “Do you think she likes me?”

“Ask her and find out.”

“Maybe I will. Now, quotes. Are you pleased with the Manhattan representatives chosen tonight?”


	10. Coming Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lodging house faces a new threat from within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check the tags before reading this chapter! A lot of them will become relevant in this and the next few chapters. If you need to, read the end note for a spoiler.

Medda shooed them out eventually, pulling Jack in for a long hug before she sent them on their way.

Kath walked with them back to the lodging house, the adrenaline of the rally still flowing in all their veins. Still, even that wasn’t enough to keep out the worst of the chill, and she shivered, tucking her scarf tighter around her neck.

Even Davey was wearing a thicker shirt than usual tonight, but Jack and the boys hadn’t added any extra layers.

“I hope it snows this year.” Kath sighed dreamily. “It’s always so pretty.”

Jack wrinkled his nose. “I hope it don’t. I hate tramping around in slush all day.”

“But you can make snowmen! And snow angels! And have giant snowball fights!” Kath argued.

Jack shrugged. “None of those things is fun when youse already gotta be out in it all day. You just wanna be warm and dry once you’re done selling papes.”

“Well, now that you aren’t going to Santa Fe, maybe you should invest your travel money in some warm gloves.”

Jack scoffed. “What travel money?”

Kath stopped. “What do you mean, what travel money? The money you have saved up for Santa Fe? You know, that place you always said you were going to go to?”

Jack shuffled, grimacing. “There ain’t no money, Kath.”

“But, you…”

“Look, Kitty, Santa Fe was always more of an idea than a place, if you get what I’m saying. I needed something to believe in. I never imagined I’d actually get there. I ain’t got any savings. I gots enough money to buy me some food and a bed most nights, and anything more than that goes to take care of the boys. It’s why I finally agreed to take the illustratin’ job. With the increase in pape prices, even though it’s only half what it was originally, we’s gonna need the money to get through the winter.

“Oh. Jack, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Jack shrugged. He glanced up at Davey under his lashes, his sunset eyes soft. “S’ok Kitty. ‘Sides, I have a new dream now, and it suits me just fine.”

Kath gagged. “Alright, loverboy. Let’s go. You have a new job to start tomorrow.”

She took one of Jack’s arms, and Davey took the other, the three of them sharing their warmth.

Davey leaned into Jack. “Guess tomorrow I’ll be picking you up, huh?”

Jack looked at him, surprised. “You’d do that?”

“If you want me to.”

Jack stopped, tugging his arm free of Katherine to cup Davey’s face, resting their foreheads together. “I’d love that, sweetheart.”

Davey kissed his nose. “Good.”

Kath sighed. “You guys are adorable. Now, can we go? It’s cold!”

The next morning dawned even colder, and Davey spared a prayer for the Newsies as he woke and bundled himself and Les up for the walk to school. He spared another for Jack, on his way to The World for his first day as an illustrator.

School was getting better. With most of a week under his belt, Davey was finally starting to make sense of most of his classes. Math remained his hardest subject, but his science this year was human anatomy, and he found he really enjoyed it. Studying the way the human body worked, the various bones and muscles and organs, it fascinated him.

He hadn’t made much progress in the friend department yet. Andrew and his buddies left him alone for the most part, thankfully, but so did everyone else. He suspected the richer ones were afraid his street rat status would bring them down, and the poorer ones feared that they might someday face the same fate he had.

It made for rather lonely days, but Davey didn’t mind much. He had his books and his lessons, and he had Jack waiting for him every evening.

As soon as the bell rang, Davey darted away. Les had decided to go to a friend’s tonight, so Davey was free to head straight to the main offices of The World Newspaper. He arrived fifteen minutes before the day ended, shifting impatiently on the sidewalk, his schoolbag crushed in his hands.

Finally, the doors opened, and businessmen – and a few women – began to filter out. Davey scanned the crowd anxiously, looking for the familiar dark curls.

When Jack saw him, the Newsie’s face lit up. “Davey!”

“Hey Jack! How was work?”

Jack groaned. “Boy am I glad I only have to do this once a week.”

“That bad, huh?”

Jack shrugged, starting to walk. “Eh. The work wasn’t so bad, in itself. I ain’t used to drawing what I’m told to draw, but its still art. It was more… the people.”

Davey nodded. “I get that. You don’t feel like you really belong there.”

“Exactly. Everyone was all fancy, and well-dressed, and it was all ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ and ‘how do you do’.” Jack wrinkled his nose. “Stuffy.”

Davey smirked. “Yeah, well. Imagine dealing with their children.”

Jack looked at him in horror. “Davey, I’m so glad I ain’t goin’ to school.”

Davey laughed.

“Catchin’ the evening pape with us?” Jack asked.

Davey looked at him in surprise. “You’re selling tonight? After working all day?”

Jack shrugged. “I’se been sitting all day. Need ta stretch my legs. ‘Sides, I need the boys to see I ain’t leaving them for no fancy job.”

“They’d never think that.” Davey reassured him. “But sure, I’ll catch the pape with you. Ma will appreciate a bit of extra coin.”

They were a little late to the distribution center, most of the boys already out on their routes. Davey and Jack bought sparingly, only intending to sell for a short time. It felt good to be out on the streets again, and Davey’s skill were only slightly rusty. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed selling until Jack was grinning at him around a stack of papes, his sunset eyes bright.

They took a shorter, more relaxed route than Jack’s usual, managing to move all their papes by the same time as they usually did, thanks to their lower numbers.

Jack sold the last pape, yawning and stretching as he watched the man walk off. “Ugh. That felt good. I wasn’t born to sit all day.” He sighed. “Be strange when that’s all I’ll have left.”

“You going to shoot for a full-time position with The World when you age out?”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe. Beats a factory job any day, and its that or the docks for someone like me.”

“Yeah, you’d probably hate both those jobs.”

“For sure.” Jack brightened, looking up the street. “Hey! Crutchie!”

Davey turned to see the younger boy making his way gingerly over. “Heya Jack. Heya Davey.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Your leg hurting you, Crutch?”

Crutchie froze guiltily, his eyes darting to Davey.

Jack sighed and stepped forward, turning his back to Crutchie and bending at the knees. “Up. C’mon kid.”

Davey saw the minute Crutchie gave in, slumping in relief and stepping into Jack’s hold. Jack straightened up, Crutchie’s legs around his waist, the kid’s arms around Jack’s neck. Davey stepped forward and took the crutch from Jack.

They started home, and within a few steps, Crutchie sighed and rested his head against Jack’s shoulder.

“Kiddo.” Jack said quietly. “Ya gotta tell me when your leg is bad.”

“It wasn’t bad this morning.” Crutchie protested. “Its just the cold, you know how it is. I started shivering and it just seized up.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jack sighed.

Davey bit his lip. “Uh, Crutchie? Ma has some oil that she used on dad’s arm while it was healing that helped relax it. I know there’s some left, if it would help you.”

Crutchie turned his head to face Davey. Curled around Jack, his light fringe sweeping his eyes, Crutchie looked every bit the kid he actually was. “Thanks, Davey.” Crutchie agreed.

Jack grunted, shifting Crutchie higher. “Ugh. Whatcha been eating, kiddo?”

Crutchie snorted. “Bricks.”

“Hmm. That explains it.” Jack teased back.

In truth, Crutchie was thin as a rail. He’d lost weight in the Refuge, and he hadn’t seemed to have gained any of it back since, to Davey’s eye. His pants were pinned at the waist, his shirt too loose on his frame. Davey worried about him, with winter coming fast, and he knew Jack did too.

The lodging house was delightfully warm after the chilly day. It was stuffed full of rambunctious Newsies, Kloppman puttering about preparing supper in the background. Davey let the familiar atmosphere wash over him, appreciating it in a whole new light now that he didn’t get it every day.

The Newsies were still trickling in from their routes, blowing in like leaves on the wind. Jack had claimed one of the couches, and Davey sprawled next to him, tucked into Jack’s side. Crutchie was snuggled against Jack’s other arm, the younger boy blinking sleepily.

The rest of the boys took up positions sitting, perching, or lying across various furniture, the floor, and each other. The room was basically a giant puppy pile.

Kloppman was just starting to set out the plates for dinner when the door opened once again.

It was Finch, carrying Smalls. The youngest female Newsie’s nose was red, the blotchy color spreading across her cheeks and forehead.

Jack stiffened.

“What is it.”

Jack pulled himself out from under Davey and Crutchie. He gave Davey a smile that did nothing to ease his sudden nerves. “Jus’ wait here a sec.” Jack said quietly.

He jerked his head at Finch, and the older boy obediently followed Jack into the dorm room, Small still cradled in his arms.

As they passed the couch, Davey could hear Smalls coughing quietly into her sleeve.

The other Newsboys settled in to eat, but Davey refused a plate, his stomach twisted in knots as he stared at the closed bedroom door. He wasn’t sure what was going on exactly, but he didn’t like the sudden tension he sensed in the air.

About half an hour later, Jack finally emerged. He tilted his head, beckoning Davey to join his outside.

“Jack,” Davey started as soon as the door of the lodging house was shut behind them. “what’s going on?”

Jack ran a hand through his hair. “Davey. I’m gonna have to ask you not to come around for a bit.”

“What? Why?”

Jack swallowed hard. “Smalls has the gripe.”

Davey’s stomach sank.

Jack saw the look on his face and nodded. “It’s gonna spread like wildfire in the Newsie ranks. It always does. You and Les, and Sarah and Kath, youse need to stay away for a bit.”

“Jack… no. I’m not leaving you guys to deal with this on your own.”

“Davey.” Jack said patiently. “Youse got parents. And school and your pop’s work, and Esther’s and Sarah’s clients… you can’t afford to miss out on all that income if youse come down sick.”

“Jackie.” Davey felt tears sting his eyes helplessly.

Jack gave him a gentle smile. “We’ll be okay, Davey, love.”

“Oh, Jackie.” Davey moved forward, but Jack stepped back, grimacing.

“Better not.” He said regretfully. “I’se already been exposed.”

It was the hardest thing Davey had ever done, walking away from the lodging house that night.

He prayed the whole way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sets up what will be a multi-chapter illness arc. It's in the tags. I know we are all muddling through Covid, especially in the States. Please keep yourselves safe. If you need to skip a few chapters, I understand. If you need to take a break from this story, I understand. The flu/gripe and Covid have a lot of similarities and I don't want to trigger anyone. 
> 
> I love you all! Stay safe.


	11. Around and Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lodging house deals with a major flu outbreak. Davey discovers something about himself.

Davey manages to keep his promise to stay away for more than a week. He’ll see some of the boys occasionally, from a distance. They’ll wave, sometimes, those who aren’t too busy coughing. Sometimes one of them will be missing from their usual post. Davey always says an extra special prayer for the boy in question.

He hardly sees Jack at all. He knows the other boy will be insanely busy, trying to be mother and father and doctor to an entire brood of unruly children. He highly doubts any of the Newsies are good patients. Not that Jack will be able to do much for them, other than be there. Davey knows the Newsies can’t afford medicine, much less a real doctor.

The worst part is the not knowing. Is Race sick? Is Crutchie? Which of the littles have come down with the flu, and how bad? Who’s recovered? Davey worries himself into a frenzy, chafing at the long school hours and whiling away the hours at home, adrift without the Newsie’s constant simulating presence.

Les and Sarah fret too, and Kath comes over more nights than not, the four of them taking comfort in sharing their fears for their friends.

Davey tosses and turns night after night, staring at the cold stars and wondering if Jack is getting any sleep at all.

The days get colder, the nights even worse. David shivers to and from school each day, wearing nearly every piece of clothing he owns. It’s only going to get colder.

It’s been nine days since he left Jack on the steps of the lodging house that Davey comes home from school to find Spot Conlon standing in front of his tenement building.

Les runs up to him at once, ecstatic to see a friend. Spot rubs his hair affectionately with his hand, bare and chapped from the cold.

“Hey kiddo. Mind if I talk to Davey for a bit?”

“Ok.” Les agrees, a little disappointed.

“Thanks.”

Les skips up the steps, and Davey lurches forward. “Spot.”

Spot’s jaw tightens. “Enough is enough, Jacobs. Manhattan’s been dropping like flies, and I know Jack’s overwhelmed. I’m going in to help. Probably gonna get sick myself eventually, but it’s nothing Jack hasn’t done for Brooklyn before. You in?”

Davey swallows. “Yeah. I gotta let my folks know. I don’t wanna bring it home with me.”

Spot nods.

Davey hurries up the stairs.

“Mama.”

Esther turns. Her expression shutters at the look on his face. “Davey…”

“I gotta, mama. They need me.”

“You’ll catch it, too.”

Davey shrugs. “Probably. But it’s been going around long enough that by the time I catch it, the others will be getting better and can return the favor.”

Esther presses a hand to her mouth. She searches his face, clearly seeing his resolve. “I can’t stop you.” She turns and rummages through the pantry, coming up with a small glass bottle. “I was saving this in case one of us got sick. Use it wisely. There’s only enough for two, maybe three doses.”

Davey nodded. “Thanks mama.”

“Be careful.” Esther whispered, cupping his cheek. “My brave boy.”

Davey hugged her, surprised to find he was suddenly taller than her. He’d grown, almost without knowing it, over the past few months. It was a strange feeling, looking down at the top of her head, seeing the grey just beginning to line her neat part. “I love you mama.” David whispered.

He hurried away, the precious bottle tucked deep into his coat pocket.

Spot was waiting impatiently, barely letting Davey clear the stairs before starting towards the lodging house with long strides that belied his shorter stature. Davey matched them, thanks to his height, but something was driving Spot that Davey couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“What is it?” Davey asked quietly. “Why now?”

Spot swallowed. “Racer didn’t show up today. He ain’t even been coughing, so I know he didn’t come down with it that fast. But if he ain’t sick, and he ain’t selling… something is wrong. I intend to find out what.”

Dread coiled in Davey’s gut. Suddenly he was the one pressing the pace, the distance between him and Jack now completely unacceptable.

Spot matched him stride for stride, fear pushing them both across the cold streets of Manhattan, prayers for their sweethearts on both their lips.

Any hope Davey had had that Spot was overreacting died a painful death when they reached the lodging house. Kloppman looked up, startled, as they entered.

“Boys! You mustn’t be here.” The old man said, hurrying towards them.

Coughing echoed down the stairs, the fevered moans audible from the entryway.

Spot smiled at Kloppman patiently. “S’ok, old man. We know what we’re signing up for. They need us, though, am I right?”

Kloppman sighed. “Desperately. I’ve been doing my best, but Jack’s been worried I’ll get sick too, and I ain’t as young as I used to be.”

Spot put a hand on his arm. “We’ll take it from here.”

“I can’t change your mind?”

“Sorry.” Spot shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m a stubborn bastard.”

Kloppman’s shoulders slumped, but he stepped aside. Spot hurried up the stairs, Davey at his heels.

About a dozen Newsies were in the main room. Pallets laid out on every surface told Davey that this was where the still-healthy or well-on-the-way-to-recovery Newsies had been sleeping, isolating as much as possible in the cramped lodging house. Any Newsie healthy enough to work was on the streets, selling what they could to support them all.

The coughing and moaning came from the dorm room, a cacophony that warned Davey the sick far outnumbered the healthy.

Finch’s eyes widened when he saw them, and he hurried into the dorm. Davey looked around at the Newsies who were left. He was grateful to see Smalls tucked into a corner, looking much more herself than the last time he’d seen her. A moment later, Finch emerged, Race trailing him. Race’s eyes were darkly shadowed, his face pinched and weary. He wasn’t sick- yet- but he looked like a strong breeze could blow him over.

“Spot?” Race asked, disbelieving.

“Hey, Racer.” Spot closed the distance between them. “Need a hand?”

Race hesitated for a brief moment, obviously worried about exposing Spot, but exhaustion won out. He slumped against Spot, curling around him gratefully.

“What’s going on, Racer?”

“Crutchie.” Race whimpered into Spot’s shoulder. “He got sick two days ago. He’s barely recovered from the Refuge, and now…”

Spot rocked him lightly. “Shh, sweetheart. He’ll be okay. Davey and I are here to help. Put us to work.”

“You’ll get sick.” Race protested weakly.

“Then you can take care of me.” Spot smiled, pressing a kiss to Race’s temple. “For now, let me take care of you.”

Race sighed. “There’s about twenty sick, currently, including Crutchie. Me, Jack, Albert, and Specs have been taking shifts, two each every four hours. If you an’ Davey would take a shift, we could get some sleep.”

“Tell us where you need us.” Spot said.

Race led them into the dorm. The sight hit Davey like a blow. Twenty boys, coughing and sniffling and burning with fever. Albert and Specs were curled together in what Davey knew was Jack’s bed, the only non-bunkbed a bit separate from the rest of the room. They were asleep, their faces slack with utter exhaustion.

Jack had his back to them, bent over one of the bunks. A wooden crutch leaned against the weathered frame.

Knowing Crutchie was sick and seeing it were two different things. Davey felt his heart clench painfully. The kid looked absolutely awful. He was barely conscious, his skin ashen, his breathing raspy and shallow. Jack ran a wet cloth down Crutchie’s face, and the kid turned away, moaning pitifully.

Jack stood and swayed.

Davey lunged forward, steadying Jack as the bowl he held sloshed water onto the floor. “Easy, Jackie.”

Jack’s head turned to him, painfully slowly. “Davey?”

“Hey.” Davey gave him a tremulous smile, all he could muster. Jack looked almost as bad as the ill kids, his face waxy and grey, the dark circles under his eyes swallowing his face. Davey took the bowl, setting it aside. He held Jack’s arms, rubbing soothing circles against the tense muscle. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Can’t.” Jack protested weakly. “Crutchie, an’ the twins, n’ Henry…”

Davey looked around the room. The reality of the bleak situation hit him in the face. There would be no doctors. There wasn’t enough medicine for them all. Jack and the others had been doing this for nine days already, and Davey felt awful for being overwhelmed right out of the gate, but he wasn’t prepared for this.

He had to do this.

Davey turned to Jack and smiled, mustering up every bit of reassurance he could find. “Jackie. I’ll take care of them. I promise. Please, you need to sleep.”

Spot had already tucked Race into Jack’s bed, the kid pressed back to back with Albert. There was just about enough space left for Jack to crawl in as well. The moment Jack was settled he reached out for Race, who gratefully tucked himself into Jack’s embrace. Within moments, they were both asleep.

Davey smoothed Jack’s curls, hesitating only a moment before doing the same to Race. Their clear exhaustion broke his heart, knowing how long they had been fighting alone. They weren’t alone anymore. Davey and Spot were going to make sure of that.

The next four hours dragged by. The sick Newsies ranged from those with mild symptoms- mostly coughing, light fevers, sniffling, and chills- to those who were burning with fever, tossing and turning in their misery. A few clutched were even clutching buckets, their faces green as they tried to calm their rioting stomachs.

Davey had been worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the challenge, the sight and smell and sound of twenty sick kids in a cramped room. But something in him flipped like a switch as he began the rounds. Within the first hour, he forgot that he was supposed to be repulsed. He forgot how much work there was to do. He forgot everything except whichever boy he was currently tending. He wiped foreheads, held hands, provided blankets or removed them as requested. He rinsed out handkerchiefs and hung them to dry, carrying the dry ones back to be used again. He emptied the buckets and brought them back for more. He murmured, softly, soothingly, to each boy, offering what comfort he could.

Every half hour, Davey checked on Crutchie. The boy moaned, his face twisted with pain at the fever that raged throughout his body. Looking at him, Davey understood why Jack and Race were so worried. Crutchie, his body already weakened by the Refuge, was losing this fight. He was clearly the worst sick, the next closest one of the littles who hadn’t been able to take any food for hours now. Davey longed to comfort Crutchie somehow, but touch only seemed to hurt him, driving him further into whatever nightmare stalked his fevered dreams.

And then Davey had an idea. For a brief second, he glanced at Spot, but the other boy was clearly preoccupied, and Davey had lost all sense of embarrassment today anyway. He licked his lips, wetting them, and then began to hum.

He couldn’t remember the words, he’d barely heard them when Jack had sung his lullaby to Race that one night. It didn’t matter. As soon as the gentle tune began, Crutchie sighed and settled. His head lolled towards Davey, his eyes glazed with fever under the sweat-soaked curls.

“Jack?” The weak rasp broke Davey’s heart.

“He’s here, Crutchie.”

“Love ya, Jackie.” Crutchie mumbled, drifting off.

Davey stopped humming, the tune catching in his throat. “Love ya too, Crutch.” He managed.

A hand came down on his shoulder, and Davey blinked tears out of his eyes before looking up at Spot.

“C’mon.” The Brooklyn leader said. “Our shift is up. Time to rest.”

Davey nodded.

Spot gently woke Specs and Albert, who blinked at the Brooklyn leader in confusion as he explained the situation.

Specs looked from Spot to Davey in awe. “Thanks, guys. Seriously. None of us have slept that long in days.”

Spot clapped him on the shoulder.

Albert gripped Davey’s arm, and Davey returned the gesture, smiling gently. Specs and Albert began their rounds. Race and Jack had stirred lightly at the commotion, shifting further into the warmth of the bed as their companions left. Spot spooned up behind Race, wrapping his arms around the taller boy and burying his face in Race’s neck. Davey hesitated only a second before doing the same to Jack, curling an arm around Jack’s hip. He pressed a light kiss to the nape of Jack’s neck before settling in, sure he wouldn’t sleep.

He was out before he knew he was falling.

At some point, he dimly remembered Jack and Race getting up to take their turn, Albert and Specs coming back to the bed.

It’s not until Jack shakes him awake hours later that Davey really wakes. He yawns, swinging his legs over the side. He’s about to smile at Jack, make a light joke about mornings, but he stops and shoots to his feet when he sees Jack’s face.

Jack’s clearly been crying, his eyes red and damp. He looks thoroughly wrecked, even worse than he had when Davey had first arrived.

“What? Jackie, what is it?”

Jack shakes his head, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Crutchie. I don’t think he’s gonna make it. Jumper neither.”

A sob sounds from behind them, and Davey turns to see Race shaking apart in Spot’s arms.

“Jackie…” Davey says helplessly. He wraps himself around Jack, feeling the suppressed emotion trembling through him.

“I’m gonna stay with him.” Jack says quietly. “Go to bed, Racer.”

Spot squeezes Race one more time, then guides the boy into the bed, tucked against Albert. “Sleep, sugar.” The Brooklyn leader whispers in the most tender tone Davey has ever heard.

Jack goes back to Crutchie’s bunk, crawling in behind the younger boy and putting a hand over Crutchie’s heart.

“Sleep Jack.” Davey orders. “You’ll be right there if anything happens, and I promise I’ll wake you.”

Jack shakes his head, stubborn, but Davey isn’t backing down. “Sleep. I won’t let anything happen to Crutchie.”

Against his will, Jack’s eyes close.

When Davey is sure he’s asleep, he reaches deep into his pocket and pulls out the precious glass vial.

Spot stares. “What is that?”

“Medicine.” Davey answers, quietly.

“Why didn’t you say something before?”

Davey swallows. “I only have two, maybe three doses. If I told Jack, it would be like making him choose who to save. An’ if he chose wrong?”

Spot nods. “Yeah.”

“I have enough for Crutchie and Jumper, but if I use it on them, and someone else gets sick later…”

Spot shakes his head. “You can’t play that game, or you’ll be just as bad off. I say use it. There’s no guarantee someone won’t need it more later, but there’s also no guarantee someone will, and if you don’t use it and something happens, you’ll regret it.”

“I know.”

Davey twisted off the cap, tipping the bottle just enough to fill it with the syrupy liquid. Spot tilted Crutchie’s head back, squeezing his cheeks lightly until the kid’s mouth fell open enough that Davey could pour the precious medicine inside. A few quick strokes of Crutchie’s neck and the medicine was gone.

They did the same for Jumper, Davey pouring out slightly less for the younger boy, giving him the same amount he’d seen Esther give Les once. About a third of a dose clung to the bottom of the bottle when they were done, mocking Davey. He’d done everything he could, now.

He tucked the remnants of the bottle back into his pocket, and resumed the rounds. All that was left to do was pray.


	12. In the Valley of the Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey finds out if the medicine worked. Jack and Davey finally get a chance to be alone together. Davey has a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning at the end if you need it.

Crutchie’s fever breaks around the third hour. Davey touches his cooling forehead and falls to his knees in gratitude.

Crutchie turns at the touch, sighing. “Jackie?”

Jack shoots up, his face wild. “Crutchie? Davey, is he…”

“Jackie.”

At Crutchie’s voice, Jack’s face crumples. He leans down to wrap the younger boy in a hug, pressing watery eyes into Crutchie’s shoulder. “Oh, Charlie.” Jack whispers reverently.

Crutchie brings a hand up, cradles Jack’s head even as he looks at Davey, a question in his eyes.

Davey gives him a shaky smile. “It was real bad, Crutchie. Thought we might lose you for a bit there.”

“Nah.” Crutchie rasps, smiling back. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Jack sobs, but it’s pure relief. His arms tighten around Crutchie. Davey strokes his back lightly, his own heart full. “Rest, Jack. You still have an hour.”

It’s an effort, but Davey pulls himself away from them, continuing around the room. He meets Spot’s eyes, and the Brooklyn leader gives him a look of grateful relief. Davey nods back. They both knew what it would have done to Jack and Race to lose Crutchie.

Davey stops by Jumper’s bed, looking at the small boy in concern. Unlike Crutchie, Jumper isn’t getting any better. His breathing is shallow and raspy, his skin paper-dry and grey. Davey tips a cup of water over the cracked lips, trying to coax the boy to drink, but Jumper’s head lolls away, the water trickling down his cheek.

Davey decides to try again when he finishes his rounds and moves on, casting one last worried glance at the boy as he goes.

When he comes back, half an hour later, Jumper is still.

Panic rushes through Davey. “Spot!” He hisses.

The Brooklyn leader jumps, hurrying over. Davey pats Jumper’s cheek, leaning over to see if he can feel breath. Spot pushes him out of the way, pressing two fingers against Jumper’s neck for a long moment.

“Shit.” Spot says, a note in his voice that shakes Davey to the core.

He knows, even before Spot confirms it by pulling the blanket up over Jumper’s head.

The Brooklyn leader bows his head. Davey slumps against the bedframe, the world slowing to a halt around him. Spot puts a hand on his shoulder.

“What if…” Davey croaks.

Spot stops him. “No. We did everything we could, Davey. Kid just wasn’t strong enough. It happens.”

Davey buries his face in his hands.

“First time?” Spot asks, quietly.

“Yeah.”

“First time is always the worst. Nothing you can really do to prepare yourself for it.”

“You’ve…”

“Done this before? Yeah. Newsies don’t have long life expectancies, Davey.” Spot’s voice is matter-of-fact, but Davey can see sorrow in his eyes as he stares at the bed. “It’s a miracle any of us make it to adulthood at all.”

They leave Jumper’s body alone for now, finishing the rest of the hour in a horrible silence. Davey feels numb, the world greyscale around him. When their time is up, he doesn’t want to wake Jack. The Manhattan leader is sleeping deeply, Crutchie tucked against his chest. For the first time since Davey had arrived, Jack’s face is peaceful.

He kneels, shaking Jack’s shoulder. Jack sighs, shifting slightly as he surfaces. Crutchie whines in his arms, disturbed by the movement.

For a brief moment, Davey watches them wake, easy and light.

And then Jack sees his face.

He knows at once, can read Davey like an open book. His eyes dart to Jumper’s bed, his mouth opening in a soundless cry as he sees the blanket.

“I’m sorry, Jackie.” Davey whispers helplessly. “I’m so sorry.”

Jack slides out of the bed. Crutchie stirs, trying to follow him into wakefulness, but Davey runs a hand absently down his arm, soothing him back into sleep. Jack crosses to Jumper’s bed, staring down at the blanket for a long moment before he lifts the corner.

Davey looks away. Spot is just waking Race, the lanky blond yawning exhaustedly. Jack drops the blanket and moves in, putting a hand on Spot’s shoulder and replacing him in front of Race, dropping to one knee and grabbing Race’s hands.

“Racer.”

Race straightens at the tone, fear creeping into his eyes. “Jack…”

“Crutchie’s gonna make it.” Jack started.

Race slumped in relief.

“Racer.”

Race’s eyes snap back to Jack’s.

Jack swallows. “Jumper didn’t.”

For a moment, Race is frozen. Then his eyes fly to Jumper’s bed, seeing the truth he’s desperately trying not to acknowledge. “No…”

“Racer, baby.” Jack says quietly. “Hey.” He squeezes Race’s hands until Race manages to focus on him again. “I need you right now, okay? We gotta keep doin’ the job, for the rest of them. Okay? I need my second-in-command.”

Race nods, setting his chin even as he blinks back tears. “Okay, Jack. Okay. I’m here.”

Jack smiles sadly. “Good.”

He opens his arms, and Race crumples into them, tucking his head into Jack’s shoulder and shuddering through a few aborted sobs before he gathers himself.

Jack kisses his temple before pulling them both to their feet. He nods at Spot and Davey as he and Race exchange places with them, Race pausing just long enough to get a hug from Spot before joining him in the rounds.

Davey crawls into the bed, the weight of the day crushing him into the pallet until he finally drifts away.

For a while, they seem to be over the worst of it. When Davey wakes again, Jumper’s body is gone. The endless cycle continues. Davey wakes, tends to the sick, falls into bed, sleeps fitfully, wakes again.

Slowly, some of the sick begin to recover, the occupied beds lessening bit by bit. First there are fifteen sick, then twelve, then thirteen briefly when Albert finally goes down, Finch taking his spot in the caretakers. After that it’s down to ten, then seven before Race and Specs wake up coughing at the same time and Jack orders them back to bed. By then Henry and Romeo are well enough to join the rotation.

Soon there are only five sick boys, none of them with more than a moderate case. Poor Specs is the worst, barely able to keep food down without hurling it back up, but Race and the others have only light fevers.

Davey gets a light cough and a bad case of the sniffles for about a day but escapes the worst of it, and Spot seems somehow immune, a fact which makes all of them a little grumpy.

Race recovers quickly with a little uninterrupted rest, and as soon as he’s out of bed he sends Jack and Davey to the Penthouse to get some real sleep. Jack doesn’t even argue, just takes Davey’s hand and goes.

It’s a mild night, and Race had sent them with several freshly washed blankets. With their combined body heat they’ll be fine, and Davey knows Jack will sleep better away from the cramped house in spite of the cold.

He also knows Jack needs an escape from being the Manhattan leader for a bit.

Like he suspected, as soon as they reach the Penthouse, he watches a weight slide off Jack’s shoulders. The tight leash he’s been keeping on himself slips too, and Jack paces the fire escape restlessly. Davey sits quietly on Jack’s old pallet and just watches him. He desperately wants to comfort Jack, but he knows the older boy needs to come to him first.

It still hurts to watch Jack struggle with himself, the emotions of the past week cascading over him all at once. He slams a hand down on the railing, once, twice, stalking away only to return and grip the bar until his fingers turn white. He’s breathing hard, his shoulders heaving as he gasps for air.

Finally, he whirls and punches the brick. Davey sees blood on his hand as he pulls away.

It’s time.

“Jackie.”

Jack’s head drops, his hand dripping blood onto the metal flooring. Davey waits.

Jack takes a shuddering breath and comes to him, kneeling down. He won’t meet Davey’s eyes, his chest still heaving against the inevitable breaking.

“I’ve got you, Jackie. It’s okay.” He finally touches Jack, featherlight fingers against his cheek, and Jack shatters.

Jack keens, the sound ripping from somewhere deep inside of him. Davey pulls him in, guiding him down and pulling him close. For the next half hour, he just holds on tight as Jack weeps. He sheds his own tears, for Jumper, for all the brave, beautiful boys who have suffered so much. For Jack, who feels everything so deeply and still opens his heart again and again and again.

Jack finally stills, his exhausted body going limp with sleep. Davey stays awake for a bit longer, tracing the lines of Jack’s face in the moonlight. Sometimes, like now, with Jack tearstained and trusting in his arms, he thinks his heart will surely burst with love.

He wants this, he realizes with a sudden start. He wants to go to sleep every night with Jack in his arms, to wake up every morning to Jack kissing him. To spend every day – good, bad, and even the truly awful – with Jack Kelly at his side.

He goes to sleep with a smile on his lips.

It seems like no time has passed when he wakes to Jack coughing helplessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry I hate myself too. :/ 
> 
> Trigger Warning: MINOR Character Death


	13. Shattering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is in for the fight of his life, and Davey and the others are helpless against this foe.

“Jack?” Davey is instantly alert, adrenaline flooding his system followed by a sickly, creeping dread.

Jack waves him off, still coughing. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Davey touches him and flinches. “Shit, Jackie. You’re burning up.”

“I can’t get sick.”

“Little late for that now.” Davey kept his voice gentle. “Jackie, come on. We need to get you downstairs and into a real bed.”

Jack shook his head stubbornly.

“Jackie.” Davey’s patience was a little thin after the long week he’d had, but something about the set of Jack’s shoulders made him pause. “Hey. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Jack shivered. “I can’t be sick.”

“Why not?”

“Can’t worry Racer ‘n Charlie.”

“Oh Jackie.”

Jack was shivering in earnest now, the warmth of the blankets leeching out into the pre-dawn chill.

Davey tucked himself around the shorter boy, feeling the heat radiating off him. “Race and Crutchie will be fine. They’ve got me, ‘n Spot, ‘n Albert, ‘n all the others. They’ll be okay, as long as you let them take care of you while you focus on getting better. Okay, Jack?”

Jack hesitated a moment, and then nodded, dropping his head onto Davey’s shoulder.

“Up.” Davey ordered, helping a wobbly Jack to his feet. “Let’s get you inside.”

They made it through the main room without waking anyone by some miracle, Jack muffling his coughs into his shirt. There are only a half-dozen boys still left in the bunkroom-turned-infirmary. Specs and the last of the littles still have low-grade fevers, but everyone else is just sleeping off lingering coughs and sniffles for the most part. Spot and Race are curled together on Jack’s bed, Race still slightly flushed from his own illness.

Davey hates to wake them, especially with this news, but it can’t be helped.

“Race.” He calls softly. He knows by now never to touch a Newsie to wake them, particularly one who has been to the Refuge. “Racetrack.”

“Mmm?” Race shifts and grunts.

Spot wakes, his eyes gleaming cat-like in the dark. “Davey?”

Jack coughs, startling them all.

Spot shoots upright, jostling Race, who whines.

“Spottie?”

“Racer…” Spot starts, but then looks at Davey helplessly. Davey understands. Watching Jack agonize over his sick boys had been one of the hardest things Davey had ever done. He knows Spot doesn’t want to tell Race Jack is sick, but they have no choice.

Spot opens his mouth again, but it’s unnecessary in the end. Jack, struggling to hold back his coughing, finally loses his grip. At the horrid sounds, Race jackknifes upright, his eyes wide with terror.

“Jack!”

Jack’s coughing too hard to answer, his fists clenched in Davey’s shirt to keep himself standing. Davey wraps his arm more fully around the shorter boy, taking more and more of his weight as the fit goes on.

Race tumbles out of bed, hurrying to Jack’s other side and helping Davey prop him up. It takes several minutes, Jack’s hacking coughs shaking all three of them, before the fit slows and Jack begins to breathe again.

Spot slides out of the bed as well, and between the three of them they get Jack situated under the covers. Jack’s shivering so hard his teeth are chattering, his breath still coming in harsh gasps. Race’s eyes are huge and glossy with tears.

Spot pulls Race in, pressing a kiss to his temple and whispering something in his ear. Race nods and crawls into the bed, curling up around Jack like a child seeking comfort. Spot motions to Davey and leads him out of earshot of the bed.

“The last time Race saw Jack this sick,” Spot said without preamble, “was right after Jack escaped the Refuge.”

Davey felt like he’d been gut punched.

Spot saw his expression and nodded. “He an’ Crutchie are gonna be a mess, no matter how quick Jack gets over this.”

Davey hugged himself, looking over at the bed. “Spot, what do we do?”

Spot shrugged. “What we’ve been doing. We take care of the sick as best we can, an’ we hold Race an’ Crutchie tight until Jack can do it himself.”

Davey nodded.

“Speaking of Crutchie, someone needs to tell him before he finds out on his own.” Spot said quietly. “Do you want me to do it?”

Davey shook his head. “No, I will. I know I’m not really Manhattan, but…”

Spot raised a hand to stop him. “You’re as much a Newsie as any of us, Mouth. Crutchie will appreciate it.”

That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t mean Davey is at all looking forward to this conversation.

Crutchie is sleeping on one of the bunks farther into the room. His face is peaceful in the moonlight, the angular bones of his face stark against his pale skin. During his illness he’d gone from worryingly skinny to practically translucent, but his cheeks now carried a healthy glow that eased Davey’s heart.

He hates this, Davey realizes with a ferocity that makes him pause. Hasn’t Crutchie suffered enough? Hasn’t Race? Jack? For that matter, all of the Newsies. These past few months had been one thing after another, and it wasn’t even true winter yet. It wasn’t fair.

“Davey?”

Davey jumps, staring down into Crutchie’s now-open eyes. He lets go of the bedframe, surprised to realize he’d been gripping it hard enough to leave deep red marks on his palms.

“What’s wrong?” Crutchie asks innocently, and its almost enough to make Davey break down then and there.

“Crutchie. I…” Oh god he has no idea how to start this conversation. He thinks of Les, tucked safe in his bed at home, and suddenly he knows what to do. He sits, carefully, on the edge of the bed and takes Crutchie’s hands. “Jack woke up coughing this morning.”

Crutchie’s eyes go as wide and young as Racetrack’s had. “Jack’s sick?”

“Yeah.” Davey says gently, stroking gentle fingers against Crutchie’s wrists. “But we’re going to take care of him, okay?”

Crutchie nods, blinking back tears.

“Do you want to see him?”

“Yes, please.”

Davey slides off the bed and waits for Crutchie to steady himself on his crutch. “C’mon kid. Race is already with him.”

The short walk across the room is both agonizingly slow and over far too fast. Crutchie’s face falls even farther when he sees the state Jack’s in, clearly fevered and miserable, already one of the rougher cases. Race lifts his head as they approach and holds out a hand to Crutchie, who grips it like a lifeline and crawls into bed on the other side of Jack.

They don’t let go of each other, their bound hands resting over Jack’s heart as the three – brothers in all but blood – breathe together.

Davey backs away, suddenly feeling like he’s intruding on something private, and almost trips over something he can’t quite make out in the dim lighting.

It squeaks.

Davey ducks down to get a closer look. It’s Smalls, her long hair falling out of the loose braid Jack had done for her while she was recovering, just a few days ago. She’s staring at the bed in horror.

“Hey, Smalls. What are you doing in here?”

Smalls sniffs, looking up at him with big, sad eyes. “Jack’s sick?”

Davey nods.

Smalls buries her face in her hands and mumbles something Davey can’t hear.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. What did you say?”

“It’s my fault.”

“What?”

Smalls whimpers. “It’s my fault Jack’s sick, an’ it’s my fault Jumper’s dead. I brought it home with me. I didn’t mean too! I don’t want Jack to die!”

Davey scoops her up as she starts to cry in earnest, rocking her back and forth and shushing her like he used to do for Les.

“Oh sweetheart, no.” He assures her. “None of this is your fault. Any of us could have gotten it first, okay? The flu goes around every year, and lots of people get it, and sometimes people die. It’s not anybody’s fault.” He strokes her back, feeling her relax slightly. “And Jack isn’t going to die, okay? He’s got us all to look after him. I’m sure he’ll be better in no time.”

Smalls nods tiredly into his shoulder. Davey carries her back into the main room, where a sheepish Finch takes her.

“Sorry, Mouth.”

“S’ok, Finch. See if you can get her to sleep some more.”

“I will.” Finch hesitates. “You take care of him, okay? We still need him.”

Davey smiles sadly. “I promise.”

He goes back in to the bunkroom. Spot is sitting near Jack’s bed, watching the three sleeping figures tangled together in it. Davey sits down next to him silently, and they begin their long vigil.

Jack goes from bad to worse over the next few hours. His coughing wakes Race and Crutchie before long, and soon the raging fever has him thrashing against the covers, driving the two younger boys out of the bed completely. He moans and gasps, fighting off imaginary attackers in his mind, waking nightmares haunting his troubled dreams.

Crutchie’s tears soak into Davey’s shirt, Racetrack’s face buried in Spot’s chest. They take turns with the cool cloths, trying desperately to bring Jack some comfort from the pain. Dawn comes, cold and clear, and the Newsies leave for the morning edition. Davey sleeps a bit, snatches of restless oblivion. Spot presses a bowl of something warm into his hands, and he eats automatically, hardly tasting it.

The evening edition comes and goes. Davey doesn’t remember whether he eats dinner. The Newsies return to the lodging house, their normal exuberance subdued. Spot shakes his head when Finch comes to ask them if there’s been any change. Two more kids leave the sick room, leaving just Specs, a little named Tumbler, and Jack.

The sun sets. Crutchie and Race fall asleep, curled together like kittens.

Spot wipes Jack’s forehead. He looks up at Davey. “You’re religious, yeah?”

Davey nods.

Spot looks down at Jack again, something in his gaze striking fear in Davey’s heart.

“I don’t know much about God.” Spot says calmly. “But I think we could use a miracle right about now.”

Davey forgets how to breathe.

Spot sets the cloth down, walking to Davey with heavy steps. He puts a hand on Davey’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mouth.” His hand squeezes, once, and then he moves to the bed and fits himself against Race, his breathing evening out into sleep.

Davey stands on numb legs, somehow finding his way to Jack’s side. Jack looks awful, and for the first time Davey is forced to acknowledge what Spot already knew.

He brushes his fingers along Jack’s face, tracing the lines of his cheek, the sharp nose, the square jaw. He thinks of the kisses he’s pressed against that face, the way it looked gilded in sunlight and moonlight, the smile that lit it from within like a flame.

He thinks of bright sunset eyes closed forever.

“Jackie.” It’s a sob and a prayer and a plea all at once. Davey can’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.

His hip hits the bed, something in his pocket thumping against the bedframe.

Davey pulls out the bottle of medicine, the precious liquid taunting him.

It’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

But Spot had asked for a miracle.

It’s the only one Davey has.

He tips the bottle against Jack’s lips, letting the syrupy liquid disappear before stroking the long lines of Jack’s throat until they tighten on a swallow.

If this doesn’t work… Davey’s chest is tight. Too tight. His fingers are suddenly numb, and the bottle slips through them to shatter on the floor.

Davey flees, heedless of his wild flight, knowing only the urge to get out, to get away.

He barely makes it to the Penthouse before he collapses to his knees, not even trying to muffle his sobs as he shatters.

He shatters, and Jack isn’t there to pick up the pieces. 


	14. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey and the Newsies face the coming of winter, the future stretching out before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for all of you, my dear readers. Thank you.

It’s Crutchie who finds him.

Davey’s long since run out of tears. Now he just feels empty, like the place where Jack should be is a hollow gash right down his middle. He’s tucked up in Jack’s Penthouse pallet, the memory of the last night they had spent here bitter as ashes on his tongue.

Crutchie sits beside him, setting the crutch aside and staring out into the faintly lightening sky. He’s quiet for so long that Davey startles when he speaks.

“When they took Jack and Race to the Refuge, I stayed up all night crying for myself. Because I’d just lost my two best friends, my brothers, and I didn’t know when I’d see them again. But when Race came home, when I heard what they’d done to Jack, I cried again for them. Because I knew the brothers I was getting back weren’t going to be the ones who had left. And a part of Jack never did come back. Not until you showed up in the square that day. You gave him something none of us could, Davey. You brought Jack, the real Jack, back to us all. And if we lose him…” Crutchie bit back a sob. “…if we lose him tonight, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for giving me these past few months of having him whole again.”

“Crutchie…”

“You’ll always have a place here in Manhattan, Davey. No matter what.”

He’s not out of tears after all, but somehow these are less bitter than before. Losing Jack would destroy him, but if the worst came to pass, he wouldn’t be alone. He holds Crutchie’s hand as they watch the sun rise. It feels like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for some signal to begin or end.

The signal comes, finally, in the form of Finch. He peers, pale-faced, over the top of the ladder. “Crutchie? Davey?”

Davey can’t bring himself to ask.

Finch smiles. “Jack’s awake. He’s asking for you.”

Crutchie scrambles for the ladder, nearly falling off it. Finch grabs him just in time, helping the other boy through the window.

Davey wants to follow them, wants nothing more than Jack Kelly safe in his arms, but his legs won’t work. He tips his head back against the railing, trying to breathe through the riot of emotion flooding his system.

He’d been so sure Jack wouldn’t see the morning bell.

He stays away too long, because Race comes to find him. The lanky blond slumps beside him, resting his weight against Davey in a way that both startles and pleases him. Race’s eyes are shiny and swollen, but he’s grinning from ear to ear.

Davey takes a deep breath. “How is he?”

Race huffs a laugh. “Alive, the stubborn bastard.” He breathes. “Shit, Dave. I really thought he was…” He brushes a hand across his eyes.

“Yeah.” Davey agrees.

“He’s asleep again.” Race says, apologetically. “Spot n’ Crutchie are with him. He’s still pretty feverish, and he’s weak as a kitten, but he’s gonna make it.”

Davey tries to smile, but it catches on his teeth.

Race studies him knowingly. “He’s really okay, Davey. I promise. This isn’t a trick, or a dream or nothin’.”

“I know.” He did, he really did, so why was his heart still pounding so loud? “I know.”

It’s a moment before Race speaks again. “Hey, Davey?”

“Mmm?”

“You’ll… you’ll take care of him, yeah?”

“What?”

“When… you know. After.”

Davey turns to face Race. “Hey. Of course, I will. But Race, he’s not going anywhere, you know that, right? He might age out of the lodging house but there’s nothing that could make him stop caring about you and the boys.”

Race sniffs. “He was… he was the only person I had for so long, an’ after the Refuge everything changed, ya know? And I never blamed him for wantin’ to go to Santa Fe or nothin’, not like New York was ever kind to him. But last night, last night was the closest I’d come to losing him since the morning I left him behind in the Refuge, and I had to think about what its gonna be like when he leaves for good. An’ I’ll survive, I know that now, I gots Spottie and Al and Finch an’ all the rest. But this is the only family Jack’s ever really known, too, and I don’t want him to be alone.”

Davey scooted closer to Race, wrapping an arm around him tightly. “You listen to me, Racetrack Higgins. I promise Jack Kelly will always have a place to go as long as I’m alive. Okay?”

Race nodded. “Okay. Thanks Davey.”

Davey squeezed his shoulders. “He loves you so much, you know that?”

“Yeah.” Race answered softly. “I do.”

They sat for a few more moments, and then Davey took a deep breath and stood, pulling Race up after him. He climbed down the ladder, through the window, across the main room. He faltered for just a second at the dorm room door, fears playing across his mind, but he steeled himself and continued on.

Spot is leaning against a nearby bunk, watching the bed, his presence steadying Davey’s nerves. Crutchie is curled on the bed, asleep, one hand stretched out to rest atop the bed’s other occupant.

Jack is peacefully asleep, his breathing deep and easy, spots of healthy color flushing his cheeks. One of his hands is gently holding Crutchie’s.

Davey takes the other. Jack is still warmer than he should be, but he’s no longer burning from the inside out.

Jack sighs at the touch, his fingers curling unconsciously, and Davey laughs wetly, pressing a kiss to Jack’s knuckles. He sits on the bed, still clutching Jack’s hand, and runs his fingers through the dark curls, stroking Jack’s cheek and temple and chin.

“I love you, Jack Kelly.”

Sunshine eyes flicker open, meeting his own. Cracked lips curl into a beloved smile. Jack’s voice is a mere thread, but Davey hears him anyway, has memorized the shape of his name on Jack’s lips.

“Davey.” Jack sighs. “Love ya, too.”

They spend two more days nursing Jack back to health, until the fever finally leaves for good. As soon as Jack’s able to get out of bed, Spot goes back to Brooklyn to take care of his own kids, Jack thanking him fervently for his help. Davey realizes with some regret that his own time at the lodging house must also end. He’s already missed another good chunk of school and if he misses any more he may as well write off the whole semester. He spends one last night, just him and Jack, and Jack holds him tightly as Davey finally lets himself process the terror and anguish of what had almost happened. 

Jack is terribly weak, and he spends a lot of his time over the next few weeks wrapped in several blankets, usually with at least one Newsie also curled around him sharing body heat. His recovery is slow but steady, improving noticeably from day to day. Davey spends as much time as he can with him when he’s not at school, keeping Jack company while the other Newsies sell.

They talk a lot, about the past, about the future, about them. Jack tells Davey everything – about his mother and father, about the Refuge, about living on the streets for so long, about being the Manhattan leader and everything that entailed. Davey returns the favor, telling Jack about his childhood, about getting bullied in school for his social status and religion, about his parents’ decision to leave their home country to give their children a better life, about trying to keep the traditions of his faith alive.

They laugh and cry and hold each other as the nights grow longer and colder, winter settling across the city. Jack still coughs sometimes, his illness lingering through the long cold months. Davey still has days when he wonders how Jack could ever love someone like him. Jack still wakes gasping from nightmares. Davey’s hands still shake sometimes, his mind racing with panic. But they lean on each other during the bad days and the good alike, slowly healing together as they were always meant to.

December comes before they know it. Davey celebrates Chanukah with his family, adding an extra prayer for his new extended family as the menorah gleams in the window. Esther sings as she cooks, Mayer passes out the small gifts they had gotten each other, and the siblings take turns playing dreidel until they each have a pile of gelt. Kath stops by on the last day with gifts for him and Les and Sarah, Esther quickly inviting her to join them and not taking no for an answer. Kath and Sarah cuddle on the couch, Les taking Davey’s lap as Mayer reads them a story in his deep, rich voice.

It snows on Christmas day. They celebrate in the lodging house, whatever passes for a winter holiday with the extremely mixed bag of religions and faiths or lack thereof that the Newsies have that just happens to fall on Christmas day out of convenience. Kath brings a dinner big enough to feed them all, the Newsies’ eyes widening incredulously at the sight of more food than many of them had ever seen.

The party lasts most of the night.

Race leaves early, heading to Brooklyn after a long hug from Jack. Sarah and Kath sneak away, holding hands. Blink and Mush don’t bother, necking on one of the bunks like the teenagers they are. Davey even catches Les and Smalls holding hands, Les using the other to teach Smalls dreidel, and Davey has to hide his smile at the innocent scene. Kloppman puts a record on his ancient phonograph, and Jack pulls Crutchie into a dance, the younger boy’s feet perched on top of Jack’s as the Manhattan leader twirls them around, Crutchie giggling in delight. Albert grabs Buttons, Specs tugs Jojo to her feet, and soon the room is filled with dancing Newsies, the sound of childish laughter filling the lodging house with warmth until they are all breathless and exhausted.

Finally, sometime in the early morning, Davey finds himself in the Penthouse, lying with his head on Jack’s chest as they watch the stars, Jack bundled in half a dozen blankets but determined to have this despite the chill. It’s peaceful, snowflakes still falling lazily, the city for once all but sleeping. If Davey could pick a moment to live in forever, he thinks this just might be it.

Jack strokes his fingers through Davey’s hair. “What are you thinking about, love?”

Davey sighs happily. “I was thinking how lucky I was, that Wiesel shorted my papes that first morning.”

Jack huffs a laugh. “Never thought I’d be thankin’ Weasel and Oscar for nothin’.”

“Are you?” Davey asked him, glancing up. “Thankful? The past few months haven’t exactly been easy.”

Jack chuckled ruefully. “No, they haven’t. But Davey, love,” Jack smiled at him, sunset eyes bright. “you gotta know I’d do it all again if it meant I got to meet you.”

“For sure?”

“For sure.” Jack pressed a kiss to his lips, sweet as candy. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Davey Jacobs. I love you.”

“I love you, Jack Kelly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This story really took on a life of its own. I've decided to end this particular story here, but never fear! There is more planned for this 'verse. I should be posting the first chapter of another sequel soon, so keep an eye out for 'Dreams Come True in New York Too'. I'm also working on Broken Dreams, and I might be posting some one-shot scenes from this 'verse from other POV's in a little while. Let me know if there is something you'd particularly like to see. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented. Seeing your love for Davey and Jack and the others made my day every time, and made writing this story a dream. I can't wait to share more of them with you soon. And to everyone who kudo'd, bookmarked, or even just lurked, I love you all. Thank you for reading this silly, sweet, self-indulgent story. I hope it made your day a little brighter.
> 
> Alanna


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